Out of Control
by Jabey
Summary: Sookie thinks she has her life under control until her new boss, Eric Northman, shows up.  Eric likes to give orders, and Sookie discovers that she likes taking them.  AH/AU/OOC Rated M for office nookie.
1. Sexy Back

_I'm bringin' sexy back_  
_You motherfuckers watch how I attack_  
_If that's your girl better watch your back_  
_'Cause she'll burn it up for me and that's a fact_

_Justin Timberlake "Sexy Back"_

* * *

I felt something the first time I saw Eric Northman. We were in a meeting, in the large conference room. I can't remember what the meeting was about, but I can remember the way I felt when he walked in the door. It was like everything inside of me woke up suddenly from a deep sleep. Like my whole life, I had been waiting for that moment, and there it was.

Everyone in the office had been talking about his return. The girls were especially excited, and regaled me with stories of his beauty and commanding presence. I had scoffed, internally, of course. No man could be that attractive – that appealing. When he walked in the door to that meeting, I knew immediately that they were all wrong. He was much more than they had described.

Amelia had told about his great height, his broad shoulders, and his muscular body; a "swimmer's build" she had called it. But she made no mention of his golden skin, of the gracefulness of his stride, of the way everyone had to look up to him, not just because of his height, but because something in his presence demanded it. I had heard he was blonde, but had no idea that his hair was long and thick, that he wore it tamed back into a ponytail, and that it was the same natural honeyed shade as my own. Arlene talked about his deep voice, but she couldn't begin to describe the tenor, the vibration, the pure sensual experience it was to hear him speak and let his words wash over you. And his eyes – absolutely no one had mentioned those glacial blue eyes, their every look a caress that delved deep into your soul and seemed to know your every want and desire. No, they hadn't prepared me for meeting Eric Northman, despite all their gossiping in the few months since I had started working at Sophie Ann's.

The focus of my world seemed to shift when he walked through the door.

I was a fairly new employee, only there for about three months or so, and the lead buyer for the lingerie department. It was a coveted position, evidently, and some other employees were not happy that someone outside the company had been hired. I had lots of experience, though, through my previous work at a competing company. And they ushered me in with friendly, if not totally welcoming, arms.

Since my arrival, I had heard rumors about the great Eric Northman. Some people called him "The Viking." The men called him that because he had been very successful at attacking and acquiring new businesses and techniques. I think the women used the name because they had daydreams of being pillaged.

"The Viking" had been overseas for the past year, helping to open a secondary corporate office in Europe. According to rumor, he was offered the chance to run that entire operation, but declined because he wanted to stay close to the home office. Speculation had him in a torrid love affair with Sophie Ann herself, who was quite a bit older that he. I didn't hold much for speculation. I had seen firsthand the sparks flying between Sophie Ann and her assistant, Andre, and I had serious doubts that anything was going to come between those two. Eric's return after a year's absence was most certainly the talk of the office.

I had tried to brush off the talk. Could the guy _really_ be that much of a stud? And besides, he was in mergers and acquisitions, and I was in lingerie. When were our paths going to cross? As long as he wasn't my boss, I wasn't going to worry about him.

And I had enough to worry about with my boss. Russell Edgington was gay, so I didn't have to worry about him hitting on me, but he was an artist and played the whole "artistic temperament" to the hilt. He was a prima donna who seemed to believe I was his personal assistant, available at his beck and call.

Lingerie was a fairly new department, and something that the executives at Sophie Ann's had great interest in seeing blossom. The Viking had acquired a popular French lingerie business while in Europe (in his spare time, surely), which gave Sophie Ann's the necessary momentum to launch their line under the French name.

And who wouldn't buy French lingerie? I mean, really.

But with all the corporate pressure and scrutiny, Russell's methods were being examined, and his stress was definitely trickling down to me. I was tired, I was strung out from working seventy hours per week, and I was stuck in a time-wasting meeting when I had my first encounter with the Viking.

I was trying to stay awake in the dim room during a PowerPoint presentation when I heard the door snick open. Portia continued droning on about profit margins while everyone else in the room started whispering. But it was one word that broke through my drowsy fog.

_Viking._

Intrigued, I looked toward the door just in time to see him sit at the end of the conference table. The low light wasn't enough to dim his magnetism, and I was caught immediately in his spell.

The rest of the meeting passed in a daze, with my only focus being the man at the other end of the table. It was difficult to maintain a façade of interest when I had to turn away from the presentation to catch glimpses of Eric. I must have flipped my hair twenty times, and I am _not_ a hair-flipper. Thank God I had worn it down around my shoulders that day. I was grateful for the excuse.

When the meeting concluded, I took my time gathering my notebook and pen, lingering to watch him, to study the way he stood and greeted his colleagues, shaking hands and smiling. They orbited around him as if he were the sun. I couldn't blame them, as I was feeling his gravitational pull myself.

"Sookie!" Russell's voice made me snap to attention, and I quickly stood to face him.

"Evidently, we have some organizational changes in the works, of which someone neglected to inform me." He glared at me as if I held the key to the information. I was lower on the organizational chart than Russell – why on earth would I have heard about something if he hadn't? I managed to shrug my shoulders and look confused, and that appeased him somewhat.

"There are going to be some management changes, and they have something to do with Eric Northman over there." Russell nodded at the Viking, giving me an opportunity to look at him again. "I don't know what's going to happen to our department, but I'm not happy about it. Especially if the Viking is involved."

All I could do was nod. I wasn't sure what would happen to our department either, but I was confident in my own skills, and I wasn't that high on the totem pole, so I wasn't too worried. And if something happened to Russell…well, it might not be nice to think, but I wouldn't be so upset. The man was a pain in my ass.

"I'd better take you to meet him," Russell muttered under his breath, and then set out across the room. "Come on."

My heart jumped into my chest. Meet him? I'd like to jump him! But, since this was likely as close as I would ever get, I figured I'd better make the most of it. My heart pounded harder the closer we got. Russell and I waited as the throng around Eric started to thin, allowing me to stare a little longer. And then suddenly, his eyes caught mine. I think my heart stopped. I know I quit breathing. I felt like he saw my soul, his gaze was so intense.

"Russell," he called out, still looking at me. Russell rushed forward, pulling me with him.

"Eric," he said, in his tinny-sounding voice. Eric broke eye contact with me to look at Russell. "So good to see you."

I almost winced. Russell sounded so insincere; I wondered if Eric could hear it. When I saw the sudden coldness in his eyes, I could tell he had.

They talked for a moment, and the low sound of his voice sent shivers through me.

Finally, Eric made a motion toward me, and Russell took the hint.

"Oh, this is my assistant, Sookie Stackhouse."

"Actually, I'm a buyer," I managed to assert, even though I knew I would suffer retribution from Russell later. A smart person did not contradict him in public – especially to someone so powerful. But I couldn't allow Eric to know anything about me that would be false or incorrect. I had a feeling I would suffer worse at his hands than Russell's if I allowed even the tiniest falsehood.

Eric held out a large hand, and I felt my hand move automatically into his. A jolt shot through me, straight to the heat between my legs. I think I would have melted to the floor if it weren't for the intensity in his eyes, pinning me in place.

"A pleasure, Mrs. Stackhouse," he said smoothly, but my attention focused on the way his mouth shaped the word "pleasure."

"Miss," I said automatically. "It's Miss Stackhouse. But please, call me Sookie."

"Sookie," he smiled. We were still holding hands. I didn't want to let go. I don't know if Eric knew my reluctance, but he kept my hand in his and shifted to my right side. "Walk with me." He placed his left hand on the small of my back and guided me out the conference room door, Russell trailing behind us.

Out in the hallway, he let go of my hand, but kept his at the small of my back, leading me where he wanted me to go. "How long have you been a buyer for Sophie Ann's, Sookie?"

"Um…" I struggled to concentrate on walking in a straight path. My whole body yearned to lean into his. "Three months or so. I was previously a buyer for Macy's."

"Hmm, yes," he murmured. "I had heard that about you. Sounds like you have a wealth of experience to offer us."

I looked up at him - way up – I think my head was about level with his shoulder. To me, his comment sounded rife with innuendo, but as sex-charged as I was at the moment, I just couldn't trust my own perception. Shockingly, I managed to respond. "I'm ready, and willing, to do whatever is required."

_Holy shit, did I just say that?_

Eric's eyes seemed to burn brighter before he stopped walking and slowly slid his hand away from my back. "I look forward to working with you, Sookie." He flashed a mouth-watering smile and walked away.

_Did I just flirt with the Viking? Did he just flirt back?_ I had never heard of him doing that – not in all the gossip floating around.

Russell broke me from my shocked reverie. "What the hell, Sookie. Are you fucking him?"

"What?" How inappropriate and, unfortunately, untrue.

Russell got in my face. "Listen, you little bitch. I'm not going to let you screw your way into my job."

"I don't want your job," I told him. It was true. "And I don't want Eric Northman." Totally false. _Huge_ lie.

Russell scoffed. "Just stay out of my way, or I'll have you scraping shit off my Italian loafers."

"I thought I already did that," I muttered as he turned and stalked away. I was so over Russell and his tantrums. If the company had plans to replace him, I wasn't going to cry over it.

I trudged off to my cubical, fantasies of Eric Northman on my mind.

* * *

**A/N - Thank you for reading! And if you've come here after reading my other story, Hot Blooded, then I thank you for another opportunity to entertain. I hope you enjoy!**


	2. Closer

**A/N – Thank you for tuning in! I have to apologize for being totally craptastic, though – in my excitement over posting the first chapter of a new story, I completely forgot to thank DeeDeeINFJ, the most amazing beta ever. DeeDee – you rock – please know that I appreciate all you do!**

* * *

_I still hear her loud and clear  
__Like she's right there in my ear  
__Telling me that she wants to own me  
__To control me  
__Come closer_

_- Ne-Yo "Closer"_

For the next month, my Viking sightings were random and maddening. I wanted to look my best in case I ran into him, but I never knew when that would be. I wore all of my most sexy-yet-professional outfits and was garnering more attention from the men around me than ever before. Yet, if a day passed without catching a glimpse of Eric, I was sullen and disappointed.

Most of the sightings were distant, such as seeing his form (head and shoulders taller than those around him) down the hallway. The worst was entering an empty elevator after he had exited; my knees would go weak at the delicious smell of him lingering there.

Russell was becoming more and more unbearable. He was certain there was a devious plot against him, and that I was somehow involved. He had me performing menial tasks, and I found it easier to appease him than try to protest. After all, I was getting paid, regardless of what he had me doing.

He requested I fetch his lunch one day, and I was bringing it back to him when I ran into Eric, literally.

Russell had demanded lunch right when I was preparing for a video conference with a supplier in Italy. He had no regard for my schedule, as usual, so I was hurrying back so I had thirty minutes to prepare before the conference began. As much as I was using the elevators recently with the hope of running into my favorite Viking, they were taking _way_ too long in the lobby, and I decided to take the stairs. It was only four flights, after all. I could handle it.

Well, I was slowing down at about the third floor when the stairwell door flew open, and the Viking flew out.

"Shit!" I heard his deep voice snarl as his hands gripped my elbows to keep me from falling backwards. Unfortunately, the movement caused Russell's Diet Coke to tip and splash us both. Eric was relatively dry, but my shirt was soaked.

I gasped, both from his nearness and from the icy liquid running between my breasts.

"Shit!" he said again. "I'm sorry!"

"It's okay," I said automatically.

"No, it's not," he responded forcefully. "You've got a video conference in thirty minutes, and no time to run home to change."

"What?" How the _hell_ did he know that? Was he spying on me? I'm almost ashamed to admit the thrill I felt at the idea.

"Come on." He kept his hand on my arm and pulled me up one more flight of stairs and through a door to a utility hallway off the stairwell.

"How did you know…?" I managed to stammer as I tried to match his stride in my stilettos. When I dressed in the heels that morning, I was hoping to attract his attention. I had no idea I would be trying to keep up with his long legs.

"I'm in on the conference too," he informed me, stopping in front of a service elevator. He pushed the button and then turned to me as we waited.

I felt the heat of his gaze. The cold drink on my shirt had caused my nipples to harden, and I felt entirely too aware of that fact as he studied me. Reminding myself that I wanted him to look at me, I stood a little taller, pulled back my shoulders, and felt liquid heat pool between my legs as he stared.

Eric sucked in a breath, almost as if he could smell my arousal, and the look he gave me was mesmerizing. Oh, I had caught his attention, all right. And it was forceful and intimidating. The blue in his eyes turned from ice to heat, and I felt drawn toward him.

The elevator door opened silently. Eric, his hand still gripping my upper arm, directed me into the elevator. The doors shut, and he released me.

I was slightly annoyed by this. Did he think I was going to run away or something?

Then I was distracted by the odd look of the button panel in the elevator. There were no buttons. Only locks that required keys. Eric pulled a slim key ring from his pocket and inserted it into a slot labeled "7". Hmm, the executive floor.

What had I gotten myself into?

"Is this some super-secret elevator or something?" My nervousness started to make itself known in its typical way: verbal diarrhea. "I mean, I've been here for a few months, and I've never even heard of this. And I have the biggest office gossip sitting next to me, so I hear everything. All Arlene could say for a month was 'the Viking is coming…the Viking is coming' and what a sex god you were. Like you were Paul Revere and Brad Pitt combined or something. It was crazy." Whoops. Too much information. I sneaked a glance up at Eric.

He was looking down at me, one eyebrow raised. "Don't believe everything you hear, Miss Stackhouse."

"Not even the sex god part?" SHIT! I could feel my face getting hot as I blushed. Why couldn't I just shut up?

To my relief, Eric's lips twitched. Maybe the Viking had a sense of humor. Then he shocked me by reaching down and grabbing my hand in his as the elevator door opened. "Maybe that part," he winked at me, and then pulled me into the hallway.

We walked down a corridor and then stopped at a door with a keypad next to it. He punched in a series of numbers, and the door opened into an office. The door we just entered was in one corner of the room, behind a massive executive desk. There were two chairs in front of the desk, and then a small leather couch and seating area toward another door that probably led to the public hallway.

"Where are we?" I looked around in wonder.

"My office," he answered brusquely, all traces of humor gone.

Holy hell. "How did you get an office with a secret getaway hatch?"

"I demanded it."

_Demanded it?_ Eric must rate higher on the corporate food chain than I thought. "You have a thing for power, don't you?"

Eric had gone to another door, which opened into a small closet, not a secret bat cave. He turned toward me, unbuttoning his shirt. Dear God in heaven, that chest, those abs. I knew I was staring, but I couldn't stop myself.

"Power," he said with a sly smile, as if proving my point. His attractiveness was definitely a powerful weapon in his arsenal.

"Yes." I held my head and eyes up stubbornly, refusing to look again, even though I was dying to.

He recognized the stubborn set of my chin, stripped off his shirt – to torment me further, I'm sure – and then turned back to the closet.

Since he couldn't see, I allowed my jaw to drop. His back was just as beautiful as his front, all sleekly muscled and golden. _Hold it together Sookie! _I coached myself. "Power and control are important to you, aren't they?"

Eric took a white dress shirt off a hanger and began to button it up. "Yes," he answered. "I like power and control. They stimulate me."

And he was stimulating me! But, back to the point I was trying to make. "Don't you realize, though, that the most powerful thing you can do is to _relinquish_ control?"

Eric had just pulled another shirt off a hanger when he turned suddenly to face me. I wasn't sure if I had said something wrong when he walked toward me, stalking me. Like any good prey, I froze.

"I do realize that, Sookie." He stopped in front of me, our bodies mere inches apart. His gaze was intent and _speculative?_ as he looked down at me. "I find it incredibly fascinating that you realize it as well."

I felt my body sway toward his. I would like to blame it on my stilettos, but I think it was his whole magnetism thing again. Dear God, the man had half-stripped in front of me. Of course my hormones would react, right? Swaying slightly, I waited with bated breath for Eric to do something. To touch me, to yell at me, to turn away. Every molecule in my body waited for his action, his command.

"Take off your shirt."

My fingers had already undone two buttons before I stopped myself. "Wait…no." Not like this. It was too soon.

"Now." The second command was just as powerful as the first, and I found myself fighting to resist.

"Why?"

"Your shirt is soaked, and we have a video conference in ten minutes. Take off your shirt and put this one on." He held up the blue silk dress shirt in his hand.

I almost moaned. He wanted me to wear his shirt? How could I get through this experience without babbling at his feet? Still, a rational part of my brain said this was a logical idea, and that he made sense. We did have a video conference to attend.

Slowly, cautiously, I took one step back, my eyes locked with his the whole time. When several moments passed, and Eric hadn't moved, I made a demand of my own.

"Turn around so I can change."

"Don't tell me what to do, Sookie." Oh, God, the power in his voice was like an aphrodisiac, and it was hard not to melt right there.

"Please," I found myself saying, shocked at the sensuality in the tone.

A fire ignited in his eyes at the word, and after another moment of asserting his dominance, Eric turned his back to me.

I quickly shed my soaked shirt, using the dry parts of it to whisk away any remaining wetness on my breasts. And then I pulled on Eric shirt, buttoning it to my neck. Even clean, it smelled of him, and the silk was smooth against my skin. I was tucking it into my skirt as Eric's lenience gave out and he turned back around.

Mesmerized, I watched as his hand reached forward to unbutton the first two buttons, his knuckles brushing the tops of my breasts. My body started that stupid swaying thing again as his hand moved up under my hair to cup the back of my neck. I held my breath, waiting for his kiss.

And then Eric proved, once again, his capacity for control when his hand brushed my hair, pulling it out from where it had been tucked inside his shirt. With both hands, he pulled my hair, arranging it, proving that for all his power, he could be gentle. His hands found my face, and his head lowered to brush his lips across my forehead. My eyes closed at the sensation, and then opened again when he pulled back to look at me.

"Good girl," he whispered, and I felt strangely rewarded by his words. "Come on." He took my hand in his and led me back out into the secret corridor. "We have a video conference to go to."


	3. Distraction

A/N – Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy. A big shout out to DeeDeeINFJ for being an awesome beta – you rock, girl!

And now, onto the show…

* * *

You take over my mind  
I can't finish a thought  
My vision turns to blind  
And I can't connect the dots  
I'm helpless and I'm stuck on  
How it feels here next to you  
I do believe that this is dangerous

- JoJo "Beautiful Distraction"

**SPOV**

I had to use all of my concentration to get through the video conference without sounding like an idiot. Every time I moved, the silk of Eric's shirt brushed my skin, and I couldn't help imagining it was his fingers, his tongue, touching me. I think he knew it, too. He sat close to me, "better camera angle" he alleged, and used it as an excuse to touch my arm, my leg. Thank God Italians are not prudes for physical contact, because I'm sure they would have noticed otherwise.

By the time the conference ended, I had no idea what had been decided or what deals had been made, and my panties were soaked. As soon as the video call clicked off, I bolted from my seat.

"Sookie, freeze." The command stopped me in my tracks, my back to him. Shit, why did I turn my back? A woman should never turn her back on the Viking.

No sooner had I thought it, than I felt the heat of his body behind me. I quivered.

"I don't think it's in your best interest to tell Russell I attended this meeting."

"Why?" The word was difficult to form through the sensory overload I was currently experiencing. My curiosity, ever present, won out enough to push the question through.

"Let's just say that Russell's not my biggest fan, and this might make him a little on edge."

"He's already on edge," I snorted. "He thinks you're after his job. If he knew the batcave office you already have, he probably wouldn't be so paranoid about it. Why on earth would you want _his_ job?"

"Hmm." His warm breath tickled as his lips brushed my ear. "It's an interesting idea. It would mean seeing you up close in those short skirts and high heels – instead of catching a glimpse of you down the hallway."

He had been catching a glimpse of me?

"It would also mean that you would be under me." His hands grazed my hips, and then slowly pulled me back into the cradle of his hard body. Dear God, what I wouldn't give to be under him. "And you would have to do everything I tell you to do." I felt his lips ghost over my earlobe, and I couldn't repress the shiver.

"I already am…I mean, I already do…" I stuttered. My entire focus was on his mouth, his breath, lost in the sensations. I can't even begin to explain how badly I wanted him to bite me, to mark me, at that moment. To make me his.

"Not yet," he whispered, creating disappointment and anticipation in just two words. "But soon, Sookie. Soon."

My brain was confused enough to wonder at what he meant. Would I soon be reporting to him, or was he implying something much more alluring, more captivating?

Eric's hands released their touch on my hips, and I felt the warmth of his body fade from behind me. I had a moment to mourn the loss.

"Go back to work, Sookie." Eric's voice sounded farther away, and I risked a glance over my shoulder. He was standing at the table, looking down at the paperwork he had spread there.

I was dismissed.

My emotions were all over the map as I walked into the hall and stood at the elevator. I was keyed up and turned on from his proximity, yet overwhelmingly disappointed at his dismissal. Was Eric playing games with me? Was he some sort of sick, twisted fuck that got off on teasing subordinates? If so, there was no hope for me; Eric was out of my league, both sexually and politically.

Shoulders slumping, I walked back to my cube, only to be confronted by Russell.

"Where the fuck have you been?" he hissed at me, and then grabbed my arm to pull me into his office and slam the door shut.

I yanked my arm out of his grasp, shocked at his behavior. He was out of control. It didn't even occur to me until later that the same actions by Eric caused a completely different reaction in my body.

"Do not touch or speak to me in that manner, Russell," I asserted myself coldly. "I will not tolerate it."

"Don't tell me what you'll tolerate," he snarled back at me. "I know that you've been with the Viking again, and I want to know what's going on."

My mind scrambled. How could he know about Eric? And Eric had asked that I keep his involvement in the meeting secret – how was I going to get around this? "What are you talking about, Russell?" I was stalling, and he knew it.

"You were seen walking with him in the hallway. And you sure as hell didn't bring back my lunch."

Thank God, I thought. He had no idea about Eric's presence at the meeting or, more damaging, my presence in Eric's office. I wondered if there were security cameras in those secret back hallways.

"Russell, I picked up your lunch, but tripped on the stairs and spilled it. I had to go to my car to change my shirt, and then run to my video conference with Italy. I'm sorry, but I didn't have time to pick you up anything else. And as far as Eric Northman is concerned, I ran into him in the hallway on the way to my meeting. He asked me how I was settling in. That's it."

Russell glared at me for a few more moments, and I felt the weight of his appraisal. I did my best to keep my face even and slightly outraged so that he would not sense the inner turmoil I was feeling. I hated this kind of cloak and dagger shit, but I felt compelled to do what Eric had ordered. Believe it or not, Eric seemed infinitely more rational than Russell, even if his own request seemed off somehow.

I must have convinced him because Russell went back to berating me about inconsequential details before finally releasing me to go back to my cubical. God, I hated that man. If I didn't love my job so much, I would be prepping my resume.

I no sooner sat down in my chair than Bill Compton arrived. Bill was another buyer in our department. He was in his early thirties, but acted as if he was markedly wiser than those around him. Still, he had been extremely helpful in showing me the ropes, and harbored no apparent ill-will that I was hired in above him as Lead Buyer.

"The old hag giving you some trouble, kid?" he whispered.

Ugh. I hated it when he called me "kid". I was only a few years younger than him, not twelve.

"If by 'old hag' you mean Russell, then yes," I sighed. "But that's nothing new."

"He's just breaking you in, Sookie. Don't fret about it." Bill was actually quite handsome when he smiled. He was of average height and lean build, with dark hair and longer sideburns. The look reminded me of Dylan from 90210, except not remotely appealing, despite my single status. I seemed to remain distracted by visions of tall blondes.

"Yeah, well, I could do with a little more focus on work and a little less paranoia. The man is a freak."

Bill's voice softened into some semblance of charm. "You're a beautiful woman, Sookie. I'm willing to bet Russell gets distracted by that."

_What. The. Hell._ I turned to Bill, giving him an incredulous look. "Russell is gay, Bill."

Bill gave a smarmy smile. "I just know that I would be distracted if _I_ was your boss."

What was up with that? Was he hitting on me? If so, it was _really_ creepy.

"Just hang in there, kiddo." He gave me a freaking snap/finger point and disappeared.

Before I had too much time to think about his odd behavior, Amelia hurried into my cubical. "You okay?" she asked.

Jesus, had everyone heard Russell ripping me a new one? "Yeah," I sighed, "it's just the same shit, different day."

"Amen to that," Amelia smirked. "But what if we could make it different? It's Friday. It's payday. And that means going to Slewie Lewie's after work. You in?"

"Slewie Lewie's?"

Amelia perched on a clear spot on my desk and shushed me. "Not too loud! We don't want Bill or Russell to hear. No one wants them to go."

"Amelia," I whispered, "what's Slewie Lewie's?"

"It's a great bar a few blocks away. They have after work happy hour, and then on the weekends it becomes a hot spot to hang. There's a dance floor and everything. Best place to pick up guys – hands down."

I rubbed my hand across my forehead, feeling a headache brewing. "I don't know, Amelia."

"Sookie, come on! You've been here for three months, and you have yet to go out with Arlene and me. We're starting to think you're a prude."

"Well, I couldn't have that, could I?" I tried to smile but probably just grimaced. "Really, I've got too much to finish up on here."

"What for?" Amelia raised an eyebrow at me. "So that you can impress Russell? Or make him look good while doing all the work?"

Damn, she had a point. Still, I tried one more protest. "I'm not dressed for a dance club."

"Sure you are," insisted Amelia. "Those heels you have on are hot, and guys love the sexy librarian, office girl look. Just go a little heavier on the makeup and unbutton a few more buttons on that shirt."

I felt the blush rise on my face when she mentioned Eric's shirt, remembering how his hands had brushed my breasts when he unbuttoned the top two buttons that were still open. His easy dismissal of me in the conference room still stung, and I was suddenly weary of holding back from everything, from everyone.

"I'm in," I nodded, and Amelia squealed.

"I'll tell Arlene." She bounced out of my cube, and I was finally alone again.

As I turned in my chair to grab a file, Eric's shirt caressed my skin.


	4. Every Breath You Take

_Every move you make_  
_And every vow you break_  
_Every smile you fake_  
_Every claim you stake_  
_I'll be watching you_

The Police "Every Breath You Take"

* * *

**EPOV**

I had ground my teeth as I watched Sookie get reamed by Russell on the cameras. Despite Russell's harsh treatment of her, she kept my confidence. I wasn't yet sure what that meant.

Russell was out of control, and it was obvious that things were going to blow up soon. He was erratic, backed into a corner, and that made him dangerous. The only thing I didn't know was if Sookie would be safe from his fallout.

I chuckled at the footage of William Compton hitting on her in an asinine way, and was somehow proud of her response to him. She didn't take bullshit and seemed very intelligent. I just didn't know if that would work to my advantage. I was mulling it over as I heard Pam walk into the viewing room behind me.

I paused the shot when Amelia Broadway walked into the cubical, and zoomed in on Sookie's face.

"She's a pretty one." Pam leaned over my shoulder, her perfume wafting around me. "Too bad she's a criminal."

I fought the urge to sneeze. "I'm not so sure anymore, Pam. This bears more investigation."

Pam sighed and turned my chair around so I would face her. "Sophie-Ann doesn't want to risk any more funds, Eric. She wants this done quickly and without press. We know that Russell's involved and that he's not doing it alone."

I studied Pam, taking in her long legs, slim frame, and tightly coiled blonde hair. She was probably the most attractive Director of Security I had ever seen, and she used her attractiveness to her advantage. That was part of what made us great friends – we had similar attack styles. We had long ago determined we were too alike to be romantic, and our respect for each other had grown by leaps and bounds. When Sophie-Ann asked me to work with Pam to uncover an embezzling plot, I had almost laughed with delight. Thieves didn't stand a chance against the two of us.

Except now, all signs were pointing to Sookie Stackhouse as the culprit.

"The activity began before she started here, Pam." I pointed out, still not quite certain of her guilt…or her innocence.

"And increased once she came here, Eric. Her signature is on all the faulty forms. It all points to her." Pam smirked at me. "Don't assume she's not guilty, Eric, just because you want to put your dick in her."

I didn't think that deserved a reply, even though a part of me was questioning my own motives. Was I thinking with my dick? Because she certainly intrigued me, and it wasn't just because she could be embezzling money from the company.

"We know that Russell has help. But I'm just not convinced she's the one helping him." I glanced at the screen again, studying Sookie's face. "She's so obedient. So pliant."

I could feel Pam studying me. I might have said too much. "I saw how pliant she was in the boardroom, Eric."

Damn. I definitely said too much. Still, I looked at Pam unapologetically. "You have your methods of getting information, and I have mine."

Pam gave me a sly grin, acknowledging our superiority. "Still, how could this be happening without her knowledge? It's all right under her nose. Is she stupid?"

I shook my head. "She's not stupid, Pam. But she is new. Russell could have told her anything, training her to do things a certain way so that it wouldn't be questioned. She's not stupid, but she might be very naïve."

Pam actually _almost_ giggled. "Ooh, an innocent. That's what's intriguing you, Eric. You want to bone a virgin."

I turned back to the screen and started the playback again. "She's no virgin," I muttered as we both listened to the women's conversation. When the other woman mentioned my shirt, and I saw the blush rise on Sookie's face, I felt myself grow hard. I knew she was remembering the feel of my hands on her skin, the heat of my breath against her neck. My fingers curled with want, aching to touch her as I wanted, to tell her how to please me and watch with satisfaction as she obeyed.

I decided instantly to discover the extent of her innocence, both sexually and professionally; to kill two birds with one stone. Brilliant.

"So, what's your plan now, Eric?" Pam asked.

I couldn't help grinning in anticipation. "Looks like I'm going to Slewie Lewie's tonight, Pamela."

"God help the girl." Pam rolled her eyes and walked out of the room.

**SPOV**

Okay, so I _love_mojitos. Not love as in I like them and feel like we could hang out occasionally, but _love_as in I think I want to marry them and have little rum-lime-mint babies. I think my love for them has even surpassed my adoration for tequila shots. Mojitos are tequila shots' older, more sophisticated, and less slutty sibling.

I had come to that amorous conclusion after about my fourth mojito at Slewie Lewie's. I wasn't completely blitzed, just pleasantly buzzed. I certainly wasn't fool enough to try to keep up with Amelia and Arlene, who appeared to be veteran after-work drinkers.

They were out on the dance floor, waving frantically at me, trying to convince me to join them. And I was just drunk enough to consider it seriously. All it would take was the right song, and I would be showing off all my embarrassing dance moves. The only thing stopping me was the knowledge that I would completely embarrass myself in front of my co-workers, and that I would be hobbled the whole weekend after dancing in my stilettos.

"I think they want you to dance," I heard a deep voice chuckle behind me. Rolling my eyes at the obvious attempt at pickup conversation, I turned on my barstool to face a large, broad, muscular chest. My eyes rose slowly, taking in the tight, black t-shirt, the almost-bulging biceps, the deeply tanned skin, the strong jaw with a light scruff of beard, the piercing green eyes, and the mop of unruly black hair.

The man was gorgeous. And he was looking at me expectantly while my mouth hung open.

I am amazing at keeping other people's secrets. I can be a freaking Fort Knox with other people's shit. But when it comes to my own, I'm like an open book. Add alcohol to that, and there is absolutely no internal filter. Anything that pops into my brain comes out my mouth.

"Wow!" I gaped. "You are seriously hot!"

Hottie McHotterson chuckled and ducked his head. Was he embarrassed? Had no one ever informed him of his beauty?

"I don't know about that." He smiled at me, his straight, white teeth gleaming against his dusky complexion.

"No." I put my hand on his arm, not-so-subtly fondling his biceps. "You really are. You should know this." What a travesty of justice if he was not made aware of his gorgeousness. I felt it my duty to correct this egregious error.

He laughed again, somewhat surprised by my earnestness. At that moment, Arlene and Amelia approached – obviously to glom on to Hottie McHotterson and bask in his heat.

"Don't pay any attention to her, honey." Arlene flipped her long, teased red hair over her shoulder and leaned into Hottie. "She's drunk."

I raised myself and looked down my nose at her. "I am not," I said regally.

Amelia cast a skeptical look my way. Arlene was too busy drooling over Hottie.

"I've had a few drinks," I admitted. "But I am not drunk."

Hottie was still grinning at me. I smiled back lazily, wondering how I was going to reach his lips, since he was so much taller than me – even on a barstool – and I really wanted to know how he tasted.

"I'm Arlene."

My co-worker was attempting to mack Mr. McHotterson out from under me. I narrowed my eyes at her. _Not gonna happen, floozy._

Hottie looked down at Arlene, who was gripping his arm and rubbing her breasts up against him. It wasn't enough that he could see straight down her low-hanging shirt, but she had to rub her ta-tas on him too. Total overkill.

He looked back at me and responded, "I'm Alcide." Right. Alcide McHotterson.

Arlene, a little put out that he had looked at me while answering _her_ question, giggled maniacally. "What an unusual name!"

Alcide didn't acknowledge her, totally winning points in my book. He just looked at me expectantly.

"Sookie," I smiled at him. "Like cookie, but with an 'S'." I was buzzed enough that I thought that sounded sexy.

"Hmm," he hummed, but his voice was low enough that it was almost like a growl. The sound made my girlie parts tingle. "I like cookies. They're yummy."

"Yeah," Arlene huffed. "But her name isn't 'Cookie', it's 'Sookie'. And she's not yummy."

Alcide looked at Arlene. "Well, I'd say that remains to be seen."

I gave Arlene a triumphant look.

Then Alcide grabbed my hand and pulled me off the bar stool. His hands were calloused, and he totally had this blue collar construction worker vibe going on. Even in my heels, my head only reached to right below his shoulder.

_He's even taller than Eric_, I thought. And then berated myself for thinking of _him._ Tonight was about forgetting _him._

"Come on." Alcide's warm hand held my own as he led me out onto the dance floor. "I want to see you move."

I briefly considered busting out my mad dance skills, but then Alcide pulled me up against him and began to dance. He actually wasn't half bad. He stayed on beat and wasn't embarrassing, despite his large frame. But, let's face it – when your dance partner is Hottie McHotterson, it doesn't really matter if he has two left feet.

We danced through the first song, and then right into the next, grinding closer each minute. His large hands gripped my hips as his pelvis moved against mine. I pushed myself into him, throwing my arms up over his shoulders as he leaned over to get closer to me. I felt his lips trail down my neck, felt his breath in my ear, and struggled not to think about another man's lips that had followed the same path earlier that day.

Thrusting my hands into the curls at his neck, I buried my nose in his chest, breathing deeply of his scent. A scent that smelled nothing like _him_. No expensive cologne, no deep, serious undertones – just fabric softener with man underneath. I pulled Alcide's head away from me so that I could gaze up into his eyes. Eyes that were green instead of the ice blue I couldn't get out of my mind.

With help from my mojito courage, I pulled his mouth to mine. To his credit, he didn't shove his tongue down my throat. The kiss was a little on the sloppy side, probably due to our dancing and my intoxication, but it was really very pleasant. Nice enough that I wanted to kiss him again. So I did.

We kept kissing, growing more heated with every touch. His hands moved from my hips up my back to grip my shirt (_his _shirt) and haul me to him. I could feel the hardness between his legs grinding against me, and knew I was going to need to cool things off in a minute. I wasn't usually the type to make out on the dance floor, and I definitely wasn't going to do more than that tonight.

When I broke the kiss, we were both breathing heavily.

"God, you're sexy," Alcide panted, clutching me closer to him. "I want to see you again."

What the hell, right? Alcide thought I was sexy, and I wouldn't mind seeing him again. At the very least, to make sure that he was still this incredibly hot without my mojito-goggles on.

McHotterson was still horned up. He buried his nose in my neck. "You smell so good," he mumbled. His hands wandered over my back and up my sides. "I love this shirt. It's silk, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," a deeply masculine voice answered him. Every muscle in my body froze.

I saw Alcide look up, then over my shoulder. I didn't need to see. I knew who it was.

_Viking._

"It's mine," I heard Eric say from behind me.

"What?" Alcide was confused.

"The shirt," Eric explained. His voice was calm and confident. "It's mine."

Alcide's eyes turned wary as he looked down at me. I saw his gaze dart to my left hand, which was currently gripping his bicep. _You won't find a ring, McHotterson._ Then he looked back at me with a question in his eyes.

I was resigned. I spent weeks trying to get Eric's attention, and now I had it, like it or not. "It is his shirt," I said flatly, sure that now I wouldn't have the opportunity to see if Alcide was just as attractive when I was sober.

To my surprise, Alcide leaned down to whisper in my ear. "If you ever need me, you can find me at Herveaux and Son Construction." Then he placed a lingering kiss on my cheek.

I felt Eric's hands grip my hips as Alcide stepped back, away from us. He sent a measuring look at Eric before looking down at me. "You be careful," he warned, and then turned and walked off the floor.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to watch McHotterson leave, and really not wanting to face Eric.

But the Viking would not be ignored. He pulled me slowly back against his body, reminding me of his humiliating dismissal earlier in the meeting room. As before, the heat of his breath slid down my neck, and I shivered, unable to stop my body's reaction to his.

Alcide might be a Hottie McHotterson, but no one compared to Eric.

My breath was quivering, my knees were weak, and the man had never even kissed me. I kept my eyes closed as we began to move – slowly, sensuously. Alcide wasn't a bad dancer, but Eric was total grace. He led, even from his position behind me, and guided my body as he desired. His hands stayed in relative safety on my hips, but our bodies were pressed flush against each other. With my eyes still closed, I concentrated on the feel of the muscles in his chest, the firmness of his thighs. I could feel every subtle movement of his hips. My shoulders were pressed back into him, pushing my breasts out and the neck of my shirt (_his _shirt) open wider.

Eric brushed his lips up and down my neck. "Bad girl," he breathed against my skin. "I leave you alone for a little while, and you've got men trailing after you already."

Holy crow. He called me a bad girl. Did that mean he was going to punish me? The thought made me wet.

"What am I going to do with you?"

Dear God in Heaven, I felt his tongue dart out to taste me. I swear, I thought I was going to swoon. Instead, I turned in his arms.

For the first time that night, I laid eyes on the Viking, and he took my breath away. Alcide was hot, but Eric was _beautiful. _

Panic overwhelmed me. What were we doing? Eric was my boss. Or, well, my boss's boss. Was he playing with me? Did he want to fuck me? I wanted to tell myself that I wouldn't settle for that, but I couldn't. I would happily accept anything Eric was willing to give me, and always beg for more. But I couldn't do what he wanted until I knew what he wanted.

"What _are_ you going to do with me?" I asked him.

His glacial eyes studied me, and I know he saw my confusion and my eagerness. I waited with surprising patience, in the middle of the crowded dance floor, for the answer that I knew could change my life.

But, as would become the norm, Eric made a move that surprised me. He grabbed my hand and led me off the dance floor toward the rear of the building. We walked down a dark hallway and out of an emergency exit into the chilly night air. A red Corvette was parked outside the door, and Eric pulled a key fob out of his pocket, deactivated the alarm, and opened the passenger door.

"Get in," he ordered.

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A/N - Many thanks to DeeDeeINFJ for being a beta extraordinaire, as well as an incredible inspiration. Check out her story - Eric. It's incredible. Also, thanks to you for reading and reviewing. I'd love to hear what you think...


	5. Corrupt

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___I could corrupt you_  
_It would be ugly_  
_They could sedate you_  
_But what good would drugs be?_

_But I wouldn't touch you_  
_Put my hands on your hips_  
_It would be too much to_  
_Place my lips on your lips_

_You'll be calling out my name_  
_Begging me to play my games_

_- Depeche Mode "Corrupt"_

**SPOV**

My stomach felt like it was in my throat the moment I slid into the car. As Eric closed my door and walked around to open his, I had a moment to take in the scent of him in the car, the feel of the low-slung leather seats beneath me. My panic had reached a level where I was silent instead of spouting my angst verbally. My head rushed with thoughts: where were we going, what was going to happen when we got there, how on earth was I going to get out of this low car in my skirt without flashing Eric, did I want to flash Eric, what would happen if I did?

By the time my mind came up for air, Eric was parking in front of my building. _How the hell did he know where I lived?_

Eric opened the door for me and held out his hand to help me out of the vehicle. I slid my palm into his, feeling a jolt of lust at the contact, and looked up at him. Dear Christ, the look he gave me. It was hot and possessive, full of promise and peril. My body automatically moved toward his as he gracefully guided me out of the car. My worry of flashing him didn't even cross my mind. Nothing did in that moment, except the spell of desire he was weaving around me.

Keeping my hand in his, he broke eye contact and led me toward the door of the building. I had no choice but to follow.

"Keys," he ordered, holding out his other hand.

I just stared at him.

He looked down at me with those mesmerizing blue eyes. "Sookie." His voice deepened, making the demand both commanding and sensual. "Give me your keys."

For a few seconds we gazed at each other, measuring.

"How did you know where I live?" I asked him.

"I see everything, Sookie," he told me. "There isn't anything you can hide from me."

With the way his gaze penetrated me, I did not doubt him. I handed him my keys.

With quick efficiency, Eric unlocked the outer door. He led me inside and up the stairs to the second floor, stopping at my door to unlock it before walking in and closing it behind us.

I watched Eric closely as he wandered around my small, neat apartment. It was only one bedroom, with a diminutive living room and tiny kitchen. But I was proud of it and worked to keep it tidy and clean.

My home was contained inside a small, four-storied building in a nicer but affordable downtown area. The building and the apartments held a lot of old world charm, with claw-footed bathtubs and coffered ceilings. My apartment faced the front of the building, and Eric paused at the two tall, old fashioned windows to look out. He appeared nonchalant about his perusal, but I saw his eyes take in every detail of my home as he glanced around.

He touched things; picking up a photo of me and my best friend, Tara, running a lazy finger along the back of the couch, pulling a book off the shelf to look at its title. Every time he touched something, he left his mark in my space, on my possessions. It made me feel as though they were no longer mine, but that he was claiming them as well.

"Like what you see?" I snarled nervously, unnerved by his invasion.

His eyes cut to mine, blazing in their intensity. "Very much so," he answered, and we both knew he wasn't just talking about my apartment.

Eric was calm as he continued his study, which only made me more anxious.

"Can I get you anything? Wine? A beer?" My heels made clicking noises on the old tile as I crossed to the kitchen. Long ago, someone had installed glass-paned French doors in the open archway from the family room to the kitchen. I had never closed them; there was no reason, when I was typically the only person in my apartment. But I had the urge to do so tonight. I was jittery and feeling like I needed some sort of barrier from what Eric Northman was doing to me.

"A glass of ice water would be nice, Sookie." I jumped as I heard him close behind me. _Damn it! _Never turn your back on the Viking.

"Sure," I nodded brightly, pulling open the refrigerator for the pitcher of filtered water I kept there. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eric lean back against the counter beside me. I grabbed the half-full bottle of chardonnay out of the fridge as well. I thought I could use a little liquid courage at this point.

Keeping my eyes focused on my task, I took water and wine glasses down from the cupboard above my head and poured Eric's drink. I was pulling the cork from the wine bottle when his hand covered mine.

"No wine, Sookie."

I sucked in a deep breath, startled by the scorching heat of his hand over mine.

"It's for me," I explained, staring at the bottle because I lacked the courage to look anywhere else.

"I know," he answered, plucking the bottle from my hands. "I think you've had enough to drink tonight." Eric stepped around me to open my fridge and place the wine back inside.

Outrage began to percolate inside me, threatening to bubble to the surface. Who was he to tell me I couldn't drink in my own home?

"Who made that any of your business?" I spun to face him, only to be caged by his arms as he grabbed the counter behind me and backed me into it. His eyes caught mine, and I couldn't look away.

"I did, Sookie." His deep voice enthralled me. "I made you, everything you do, and everything about you, my business."

The bubbles of outrage began to dissolve down to nervousness, though I fought to assert myself. "I didn't think stalkers cared if the objects of their obsession drank."

My comment was designed to provoke, but Eric was too smart to take the bait. "Stalkers don't. I do." He leaned into me and inhaled my scent. I wonder if he could smell my fear. Or my excitement. "I want you to be fully aware when I kiss you."

_Whoa._ Everything inside me dissolved at the thought. "Kiss me? Do you think that's appropriate? I mean, y-you're my boss," I stuttered.

Eric's body leaned toward mine, enticing me with his smell, his heat, but still denying me the contact I had begun to crave. Defiantly, I placed my hands on his chest, molding my hands to the hard planes, unsure if I was holding onto him or holding him back. "Hmm," he hummed, and I could feel the vibration under my hands. "Say that again, Sookie."

My thoughts were certainly not on words, and I struggled to recall what might have caught his appeal. "Appropriate?" I licked my lips as I stared at his.

His mouth hinted at a smile. "No."

"You're my boss?"

A delicious grumble emanated from his chest. "That's the one."

I fought to hang onto my coherency. "Doesn't it matter to you that I'm in a position of subordination? That you have authority over me?"

Eric's nod was slow, deliberate. "Absolutely. It matters very much."

I couldn't stop by eyes from roaming his face, from studying his mouth, from willing it to touch mine. I looked back up to his eyes. God, I wanted him to kiss me. "I forgot. Power and control 'stimulate' you."

He raised one eyebrow. "And relinquishing control gives you power. Or so you told me."

Eric's body leaned further into mine, enveloping me in his presence. I almost groaned out loud when his thighs brushed mine, teasing me, taunting me. "So, are you going to kiss me, or what?" I could have killed myself for giving away my eagerness.

"I want you to ask, Sookie."

My internal percolator thrummed to life, and forced outrage and disbelief upward through the sensual haze Eric exuded. I'll be damned if I did. The man was outrageous. "Ask you to dominate me?"

Eric growled and pushed his hips into mine. I moaned when I felt the hardness between his legs press against me intimately. "When I dominate you, you won't ask, you'll beg. Right now, you're going to ask for a kiss. I'm giving you the power."

He made it sound like a gift, an honor. I fought for control of myself. "What makes you think I want to kiss you?"

Eric dipped his head lower to whisper in my ear. "Because I know your body better than you do." The words were devastating in their truth. "I know how aroused you are. How you want me to rub my skin against yours…" Overwhelmed, my eyes fluttered closed. "How you want my fingers on your nipples…" His hand left the counter to ghost up my side to the curve of my breast. Like prey, I froze as he let me feel the weight of his hand, let me ponder the possibilities, before it continued upward to cup the back of my head. "How you want my tongue in your mouth."

His lips brushed my neck, glided across my jaw, then hovered over my mouth. "I can feel it in the tremble of your legs, in the shudder of your breath, in the smell of your skin."

Dear Christ, he was driving me crazy. I tilted my head, trying to touch his mouth with mine. He pulled back as I moved forward, maintaining that slight distance to keep control, driving me insane. His hand fisted in my hair, holding me immobile so he could continue his torture.

"Give in to me, Sookie," he breathed.

My frustration crumbled me, bringing tears to my eyes. "I can't," I whispered.

"Are you afraid?" he asked, eyes locked on mine, blazing in their intensity.

"Yes," I admitted, unable to be anything but painfully honest with him.

"Face your fear," he challenged me.

And that sold it. He wouldn't deceive me by telling me there was nothing to fear, because he knew that to be false. But my desire for him outweighed my panic, and I could admit to myself that I wanted nothing more on this earth than to submit to him.

"Please," I whispered against his lips. He waited for me to continue. I knew what he expected of me, and I gave it. Gladly. "Please, kiss me."

We both knew it would be the first plea of many.

My capitulation was rewarded when I felt the soft warmth of his lips brush mine. I had expected him to plunder, to ravage – but I had underestimated his control. With his hand still tight in my hair, his lips enveloped mine slowly, sensuously. He teased as much as he rewarded, nibbling my bottom lip, then sweeping his tongue lightly across it. I could feel myself panting, my fingers gripping his shirt to pull him closer. I wanted to devour him, to swallow him whole. I had placed myself firmly in his hands, trusting him to care for me, to give me what I needed, without knowing exactly what that would be. And he did. The soft, sensual kisses devastated me, made me want him so badly I was aching for him.

I could feel his hardness against my stomach, and my hips moved of their own volition to rub against him. Eric quickly moved one hand down to my waist – stilling me. He permitted me no pleasure other than that he deliberately gave.

With that kiss, I knew I would do anything to be possessed by him. And that his possession would change my life irrevocably. I was right to be afraid.

Eric startled me by pulling away, still holding my hair tightly to keep me from following him. The loss of his heat, his lips, made me want to sob.

"Do you have any aspirin? Tylenol?" The deep sensual timbre of his voice belied his nonchalant question. My heart leapt at the evidence that he was affected by the kiss that rocked me to my core. I opened my eyes to look up at him, my heart pounding.

"Sookie?" His tone gentled as he took in my dazed expression.

"Um, y-yes," I stuttered. "I have Tylenol. Do you need some?" The idea that I could provide something he needed thrilled me beyond belief.

He didn't answer. He just slowly removed his hand from my hair and my hip, as if reluctantly letting me go. "I want you to drink a glass of water, take two Tylenol, and go to bed."

What? Why would I need the pain reliever? Was he that big? Was I going to need some sort of preemptive medication before he made me sore? Was he into rough sex or something? Oh my God, was he going to spank me? The thoughts made me weak at the knees.

I was confused when he leaned forward to place a lingering kiss on my forehead before turning and walking toward the front door. He stopped with his hand on the knob and turned to look at me. "No more wine. Take the meds and drink the water." He was to obeyed, that much was clear. The rest of the evening, though, was completely murky.

"And lock the door behind me." Eric walked out of my apartment.

My body, still in shock, moved automatically to the door and locked the three bolts. Then my knees gave way, and I sank to the floor.

_What the fuck just happened?_

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**A/N - All my thanks to DeeDee for beta'ing. I revised again after she reviewed, however, so please don't blame her if there are any errors. I claim those.**

**I love your reviews, truly. But if you're little shy, I would be satisfied if you just kept reading.**


	6. There's Something Going On

_You know you've changed_  
_And your words they lie_  
_That's something you can't deny_  
_I know there's something going on._

_ - Frida "I Know There's Something Going On"_

**SPOV**

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Tara's voice screeched so loudly, I had to hold the phone away from my ear. I knew this would be her reaction. We'd been best friends since elementary school, and her personality was as well known to me as my own.

"Yes," I readily agreed with her. "I am out of my mind. That's why I'm calling you." Tara always gave the best advice. That's why I was calling her on a Saturday morning, after staying up most of the night trying to figure out the enigma that is Eric Northman.

And, annoyingly, I had no hangover. Damn Eric and his Tylenol.

"You need your ass kicked." Tara was never one to mince words. "It's as simple as that. You don't shit where you eat, Sookie! Didn't you learn anything from _Bridget Jones' Diary_? From _Disclosure_? From _The Wedding Singer_, for God's sake?"

"_The Wedding Singer_?" I couldn't help but laugh as I wandered into my living room. "Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler weren't co-workers, Tara."

"Well…she hired him," Tara sputtered. "And then he couldn't sing at her wedding because he was so depressed, and it fucked with their relationship. Their _working_ relationship, Sookie."

I sighed. "I get your point, as befuddled as it is."

"Then say it with me," she insisted. "You don't shit…"

"…where you eat," I finished wearily.

"Right. Now leave this 'Viking' the hell alone!"

"But I can't, Tara," I whined. "I have to work with him. I can't avoid him."

"Sure you can! You can stop wearing those sexy little shoes I _know_ you've been wearing for him, and you can tell him to back off - to leave you alone, or you'll report him to Human Resources."

"I'm not going to report him to HR."

Tara scoffed. "Of course not, because you're lusting after him as much as he's lusting after you. But _he_ doesn't know that."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, believe me – he knows I'm lusting after him. I turn into mush when I'm around him, Tara. He's so hot."

"Not hot enough to lose your job over." Tara protested. "No man is that hot."

She clearly did not understand the power and beauty that was Eric Northman. "Tara, he's Marky Mark in Calvin Klein hot."

"No way."

"Johnny Depp in _Pirates of the Caribbean_ hot."

"Nope. He can't be."

I pulled out the big guns. "The volleyball scene in _Top Gun_ hot."

There was a long pause and a deep intake of breath. "Now that's just blasphemous, Sookie," Tara scolded. "And impossible. No _one_ man is that hot."

"Eric is hotter," I assured her. "And I find myself wanting to do whatever he says."

She snorted. Tara had no tolerance for women with no backbone. "You always were ape-shit over those stupid fairytales. Sookie, I've told you over and over again – you can't wait for a prince to come and rescue you. You've had some hard knocks over the years, and had to take on more responsibility that you should have to," Tara paused, then coughed, "Jason!" and continued. "But this man is not a prince, Sookie. He's not going to save you."

She had a point. I was tired of carrying burdens; my irresponsible brother included. And I had always longed for someone, my "prince", to take me away. But Eric wasn't my prince. He wasn't. And I didn't long for him to take me away…much. I was discovering, however, how much I enjoyed being dominated, sexual frustration notwithstanding.

"Tara, I'm not weaving daydreams here," I lied. "I just want to lick his body from head to toe. Just once."

Tara laughed, in spite of herself. "You are insane."

"Tell me about it!" I exclaimed. I settled down in my cushy chair – the only piece of furniture I didn't remember Eric touching the night before. "I don't know what to do. He's my boss's boss - it's totally inappropriate."

"You can say that again," Tara muttered.

"And if my boss found out, he would probably fire me."

"You think?" She excelled at sarcasm. I ignored it.

"It's strange, though. Russell has this weird paranoia about Eric, and there's a part of me wondering if it's justified. I mean, Eric _is_ hiding things from Russell."

"You mean, like the fact that he wants to fuck Russell's employee?"

"No, that he's attending meetings regarding new accounts that Russell isn't aware of. I'm starting to think that Russell has a right to be worried." I felt like it was a puzzle, and I couldn't quite figure out how to put the pieces together.

"So are you going to warn him?"

"What?" I was distracted from my train of thought. "Warn Russell?" I chuckled. "No. If Russell has dug himself a hole, I'm not going to help him out of it. Believe me, Russell would sacrifice me in a heartbeat to save himself. I wouldn't take the fall for him."

"But, what if it's not Russell that's in the wrong?" Tara pointed out. "How do you know that Eric isn't the one being underhanded? You're covering for him – does that mean you would take the fall for him too?"

It was a good question. And it all boiled down to whether I trusted Eric.

"Alright, listen carefully." Tara had moved on to the wisdom-imparting portion of our conversation. "You're going to go down to your local adult bookstore, you're going to pick out a dildo that reminds you of Eric, and you're going to use it. Often. Then you're going to keep your head down, your mouth shut, and do your job. Understand?"

Tara always gave the best advice.

I went into work Monday morning with renewed purpose. I was dressed in my navy blue "power suit", with tailored pants and jacket. Just a peek of a red lace camisole showed underneath the lapels, and on my feet, my red, glossy stilettos – because sometimes feeling sexy meant feeling powerful. And because Tara didn't have to know.

I would do my job, and do it well. I would navigate around Russell and not fall into his bullshit. I would avoid Eric and, thanks to my new adult purchase, resist his masculine wiles. I would be confident, purposeful, and in control.

I faced my first hurdle at nine o'clock that morning: staff meeting.

"Hey Sookie," Amelia smiled as she sat down next to me at the conference table. "What happened to you Friday night?"

_Shit!_ I totally forgot about Amelia and Arlene at Slewie Lewie's. Had they seen me leave with Eric? Amelia could probably be bribed to keep her mouth shut, but Arlene was a totally different story. Office gossip indicated Arlene was pissed when I was hired. She had applied for my job, and was turned down. She would blab out of spite – especially if the Viking were involved. She was the one who told me most of the gossip about him before he arrived.

Then a horrible thought occurred to me. Just how did she know so much? Had she been involved with Eric? Had Eric done this before? Was he some kind of office lothario?

I glared at Arlene as she sat down across the table. She gave me a snotty look, and turned her head.

Amelia, taking in the exchange, whispered to me, "Don't worry, Sookie. She'll get over it. Arlene just gets a little bitchy when another girl gets the guy."

Damn straight! Eric was interested in me, not Arlene. And, I suddenly remembered, Arlene didn't know about the Bat Cave or the secret hallways. But I did. That had to mean something, right?

So Arlene was pissed because I left with Eric, and she didn't. And that meant that she and Amelia knew about the two of us, which meant the whole office knew. Which meant I wouldn't have a job for much longer. I put my head down on the table.

"Hey," Amelia soothed, as the rest of the department filtered in the room. "It's not a big deal. It's just that Arlene has a thing for construction worker types, and I think that Alcide guy was her wet dream come true. So, what happened with him? Did he take you home?"

_Alcide? _Who was…_oh! Hottie McHotterson!_ They thought I left with Hottie McHotterson.

My whole outlook brightened.

"Actually, I didn't leave with him," I assured Amelia, in a voice loud enough to carry to Arlene. "I wasn't feeling well, so I walked home. I only live a few blocks away."

"Really?" Amelia's tone was skeptical. "You guys looked hot and heavy on the dance floor. Then, when we got back from the bathroom, you were both gone."

"Amelia, I swear," I said with wide eyes, "I didn't leave with Alcide."

Across the table, Arlene snorted. "Couldn't close the deal, huh, Stackhouse?"

Okay, she was just pissing me off, now. I couldn't help rubbing it in her face. "Oh, I could have closed the deal, Amelia. Alcide wanted me. In fact, he told me I could call him if I _needed _him."

"As interesting as that sounds, Ms. Stackhouse," a familiar, panty-dropping voice rang out from behind me, "I don't think it's an entirely appropriate discussion for a work environment."

_Viking._

My mouth dropped open and I could feel my face turning red. What the fuck was he doing here? And was _he_ lecturing _me_ on workplace propriety?

As if he knew the ridiculousness of his statement, he stopped at the head of the table and winked at me. He freaking winked.

I closed my eyes, and took deep, cleansing breaths. I could handle this. I was good enough. I was smart enough. And dog-gone-it – I had a dildo. I could handle anything.

I opened my eyes and smiled brilliantly at him, giving him a little of my mojo to counter his. Of course, at that moment, Russell walked into view to see me beaming at Eric.

_Shit._

"Sookie," he snarled, "if you can stop flirting with Mr. Northman for a moment, I'd like a cup of coffee."

My mortification was complete. The whole department was smirking at me, and my boss had just ordered me to fetch him coffee.

"And I'd like to start this meeting, Russell," Eric's voice was cold as he turned to the smaller man and motioned for him to take a seat. "If you wanted coffee, you should have gotten it earlier."

If looks could kill, Eric would have been a dead man. Russell took a seat at the table. Not his customary seat at the head of the table, though, because Eric was already occupying that position. If Russell wasn't worried about his job before, he definitely should be now. Sookie knew Eric wouldn't tolerate the attitude Russell was putting off, and even she knew it was a bad move to cross the Viking. A very bad move.

"Hey everyone," Eric greeted them, while opening his laptop. "I'm here today to introduce our new purchasing procedures and protocols."

The staff groaned, but I stopped staring at Eric's lips and snapped to attention. Sophie Ann's had the most convoluted purchasing procedures I had ever seen, and I had spoken to Russell several times with suggestions for changing them. He had argued that I was too new to understand the system properly, but that he would pass along my ideas. I hadn't really believed he would, but maybe I was wrong.

Eric connected to the projector, and showed us the new system, step by step. The more he talked, the more excited I became. It was very similar to what I had used in the past, and seemed to make so much more sense. _This_ system I understood.

My enthusiasm must have shown on my face, because Eric kept looking at me during his presentation. By the time he was done, I was practically bouncing in my seat. I couldn't wait to use the new forms.

The rest of the staff didn't seem as eager. The murmurs grew until Eric asked if anyone had any questions.

"The old way was so much simpler," Clancy complained.

"What?" I was shocked. "Look, I know haven't been here that long, but this seems so much easier than the process we've been using."

That caught Eric's attention. "How so?"

"Well, the steps have been simplified. There are actual quotes included to justify the purchase price, and it restricts approval to entire amounts only, instead of partial funds. It's wonderful and a huge improvement." My excitement was such that I worried I was coming across as a suck up.

"Sookie, what are you talking about?" Amelia spoke up. "Our old procedure allowed for all of those things, too. This new way asks for additional price and vendor verification, which is going to take more time to research and assemble."

I was confused. "But…"

"I've told you, Sookie," Russell sneered, "That you just didn't understand the system. You were always looking for loopholes and asking weird questions. I don't know how you did things at Macy's, but Sophie Ann's has higher standards in our procedures."

I was astounded. I am not an unintelligent woman, and I had been a buyer for years. Purchase requisitions were like word processing programs; they might have their own little quirks, but they all essentially operated the same. And now Russell was telling me I didn't know what I was doing and wasn't smart enough to figure things out. What the hell?

"Well, I'm sure Sookie will get the hang of the new system quickly enough," Bill smiled at me reassuringly.

I felt sick. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Eric looking at me. I was sure he was wondering if he had kissed a dumbass. I thought of my goals for the day…

Do my job well. FAIL  
Not fall into Russell's bullshit. FAIL  
Avoid Eric. FAIL

But I wasn't a dumbass. And I didn't work my way to head buyer to look like an idiot.

I narrowed my eyes at Russell. He was sweating and fidgeting. He was more than just nervous about Eric taking his job. Something was fishy with him, and I was going to figure out what it was.

* * *

**A/N - Thank you so much to DeeDeeINFJ for being an incredible beta! She has so much going on right now, but she still found time to correct my mistakes. And I adore her for it!**

**I've really enjoyed authors who give teasers to those who review, so I'm going to try it out. If it turns me into a review whore, then I might have to reconsider. But in the meantime, if you have the time or inclination to review, I'll send you a little thank you. And even if you don't, thank you!**


	7. I Want You To Want Me

**A/N – Thank you to all the readers and reviewers, especially Alison (Northman Maille) – you're always so supportive and insightful, and you really, really ROCK. Also, I couldn't look even remotely polished without my kick-ass beta, DeeDeeINFJ. She just posted an update on her story, Eric. (In case you are one of the few that haven't read it, it's a retelling of all the SVM books from Eric's point of view – and she totally nails it. And really, who **_**wouldn't**_** want to know what's going on in Eric's brain?)**

**And now, on to the Viking...**

* * *

_I want you to want me_  
_I need you to need me_  
_I'd love you to love me_  
_I'm beggin' you to beg me_  
_  
- Cheap Trick "I Want You to Want Me"_

**EPOV**

"How'd the meeting go? Did Russell confess?"

I dropped to the chair in front of Pam's desk. "That man is digging his own grave. He had the nerve to tell me he was outraged for my intrusion upon his meeting. He _actually_ said that. He either has a death wish, or balls of steel."

"He knows we're getting close." Pam rubbed her hands together. "We would only introduce those new purchasing procedures to close the loophole he's been using to steal money. He's using a defensive armor hoping that we won't look at him."

Pam was probably right. "He doesn't know enough, though. We intro'd those procedures to all departments, not just his. He knows we know, but not that we suspect him." I rubbed my chin, trying to consider all angles. "He's going to run."

"Not yet." Pam shook her head. "He hasn't taken enough yet. These types are always too greedy for their own good. It's how they get caught. And, he's still got someone on the inside. Someone like Sookie Stackhouse."

"I just don't think it's her, Pam."

Pam rolled her eyes.

"Seriously. You should see the way he treats her. It's horrible." It actually made my blood boil. Directing someone was one thing, but disrespecting them was another. A flash of my mother's face crumbled in misery ghosted through my mind, and I shut it down. Quick.

"Defensive armor," Pam scoffed, "just like with you, to throw us off his scent."

No, it was more than that. I just knew it. "She seemed really excited about the new purchasing procedures."

"Really?" Pam paused. I had her attention.

"She talked about how complicated the system was before, and how the new procedures were so much more simplistic."

"But they're not," Pam shook her head. "They're more complex, and require more data."

"Exactly," I nodded. "When someone pointed it out, Sookie was totally confused. And Russell was quick to point a finger. He claimed Sookie was always asking weird questions and looking for loopholes. He made her sound like an idiot." I leaned forward to look at Pam, trying to drive my point home. "Now, why would he do that to his partner?"

"He's looking to use her as a scapegoat?"

"Absolutely he is. But he wouldn't use his _partner_ as a scapegoat, especially if he thinks they've still got a chance to get away with it. I think Russell will run, and his partner will stick around a while before finally fading away. If he points out his partner now, they're screwed."

"So, Sookie's not his partner, but someone else is." Pam was starting to come around to my way of thinking. "And they're looking to blame Sookie when it all tumbles down."

"Bingo."

"So, how do we figure out the identity of Russell's partner?"

"I want to know who showed Sookie how to fill out those reports incorrectly."

"Wasn't it Russell?"

"No," I shook my head. "Russell wouldn't stoop to that level. It's beneath him. He would send an employee to do it." _Arrogant asshole._

"And that's what I'm going to do." Pam smiled at me smugly. "Eric, I want you to do some recognizance work. Find out who trained Sookie Stackhouse."

I could feel the grin spread across my face. "With pleasure, Pamela. With pleasure."

~0~

Later that week, with my new mission in mind, I accessed Sookie's schedule and decided to crash her next planning meeting. It was already in progress when I slipped in the conference room door, and took a seat.

It was a large meeting, about thirty people or so, and centered around incorporating the new lingerie line into the Sophie Ann "brand". I was completely uninterested in marketing. While I possessed the charm to sell ice cream to an Eskimo, I did not buy into the corporate speak and positioning. I had been trained at my highly successful, highly psychotic father's knee to identify and assess a weak company, then swiftly attack. Tell me what you want, and I'll fight for it and bring it to you on a platter. But do not require me to attend a meeting where everyone talked endlessly about "marrying" concepts, "owning" projects, making "drop dead dates", and absolutely jack shit was actually accomplished at the end. It drove me fucking insane.

Unfortunately, this was that kind of meeting.

So instead of giving into my urge to interrupt and direct the meeting, I sat back and studied Sookie Stackhouse.

She didn't say much, but it was obvious that she absorbed every word, every idea. Even though she was initially distracted by my entrance, she was able to focus and contribute to the discussion. I had caught her staring at my mouth during the staff meeting earlier in the week, and I knew she had been remembering our kiss. She was probably somewhat pissed at me for leaving her hanging. The thought of an angry Sookie brought a satisfied smile to my face. It was a small price to pay to keep my control. If I had stayed in her apartment one more second, all hell would have broken loose, and I wouldn't have left for hours. _Possibly days._

My attention was caught by Sookie's pen sliding absently across her moist lips as she listened to the newest inane idea. My pants tightened.

_Definitely days. Probably weeks._

Did she know what she was doing? Was she subtly getting her revenge? I let out a soft wheeze when the pen slipped between her lips and into her mouth. I could just see her teeth lightly scrape the barrel as it slid back out. My abdomen tensed and my arousal became almost painful as she wrapped her lips around the pen, then pulled it out of her mouth with a slight pop.

I gasped, and then quickly covered the sound with a low cough. Thank God, no one seemed to notice.

But then, I saw it. A sly smile spread across that alluring mouth, and I watched as Sookie looked down, and then up at me through her lashes.

Temptress.

I was shocked and intrigued. This was another side of Sookie I had not quite expected. Sure, I had caught onto the little outfits and fuck-me heels; I dealt with that kind of enticement all the time. But this, this…seduction, was thrilling. The sight of that pen moving in and out of her mouth made me think of what I wanted to do to her, of how I wanted to open her mouth, to rub my thumb across those succulent lips and show her how I liked to be serviced. It made me want to own her, to possess her.

The meeting broke up around me. I had obviously lost focus for the last few minutes, so I was unaware of resolutions accomplished, if any. Several people stopped to talk on their way out of the room, and if they thought it odd that I remained seated, well, no one would dare say anything. The truth was that there was no way I was going to stand and reveal what was going on in my pants at that moment. And there was also no way my under-the-table issue was going to go away until Sookie left the room.

And that minx took her time.

She chatted with others as if she had all the time in the world, obviously knowing why I had not yet made my exit. And when she finally breezed by me, she left me with only the light scent of her perfume and the memory of the twinkle in her eye.

Score one for Sookie.

But now, it was my turn.

**

* * *

**

**SPOV**

Once I safely escaped the conference room, I scrambled to the nearest bathroom on shaky legs. Thankfully, it was empty, as the aftershocks hit me.

What the hell had I just done?

Did I actually just challenge the Viking? Even in my shock and nervousness, I couldn't deny my intention. I deliberately provoked him. I waved a red flag at a bull, then ran away, and now had no idea when I would feel the prick of his horns.

I hurried to the bathroom counter and looked at my flushed face in the mirror.

There was a small, triumphant part of me that was doing somersaults at my daring. _Take charge!_ that little part screamed. _Show him who's boss!_

And while I certainly could appreciate the bravado of that small, fierce aspect of my personality, the larger majority was trembling in anticipation. Anticipation because challenging the Viking was not without retribution, and retribution from Eric promised to be sweet. And scary.

The sound of a flushing toilet alerted me, and I grabbed a paper towel, pretending to fix my makeup while another woman - a secretary from Marketing, I think – washed her hands and gave me a perfunctory smile. When she left the bathroom, I bent down to check under the three stalls to make sure I was alone. No sense committing career suicide by falling to pieces with an audience, right?

I leaned heavily against the counter, resting my forearms in between the sinks and putting my head in my hands. What possessed me to antagonize Eric? So I had been searching for a sight of him all week. And yes, I was still pissed that he left my house last Friday night after making me beg him to kiss me. That was just wrong….

Okay, maybe the begging wasn't wrong, because that was hot. Way hotter than I ever would have thought. But the whole leaving me hanging situation – that just sucked. And I was angry at him for making me feel so conflicted. He was my boss, and I knew the whole situation was dangerous. I wanted him, but I didn't _want_ to want him. He made it feel so good to be dominated, but I had spent my whole life having to take control. Although unwilling, it was certainly my comfort zone. Besides, I wanted _him_ to want _me_.

_Jesus Christ, I'm a freaking Cheap Trick song._

I moaned pathetically into my hands, and it made me feel slightly better…

…until the hairs on my arms started to stand up. My breathing started to increase and my heart started to race. It felt like every nerve ending in my body was electrified. What the hell? Was I having a panic attack?

"Sookie."

The deep, liquid voice melted over me, and my body's extreme reaction suddenly made sense. I wasn't having a panic attack. I was hallucinating. At least, I hoped I was, because if I wasn't, that meant Eric had followed me into the women's restroom and I was about to receive retribution. I moaned again, and this time it wasn't as cathartic.

"Sookie, look at me. Now."

I wanted to ignore him. There was some instinctual part of me that had always fought to survive, and it was imploring me to fight, to resist. I wanted to ignore that part. I wanted his wish – his order – to be my command.

In a fit of passive rebellion (_against him or me?), _I kept my eyes closed. "What are you doing in the women's restroom?"

"Taking you up on your invitation." My body started to hum as I felt him step up behind me, the warmth of his presence making me smolder. "That _is _what that was back there in the conference room, wasn't it, Sookie? An invitation? Because I would hate to find out that you were just teasing me. That would be very disappointing."

Everything in me shuddered at the idea of disappointing Eric. I opened my eyes, and started to straighten.

"Don't move." No matter how softly and sensually spoken, it was still a command. "Keep your elbows on the counter."

With the height of my heels, and my hips in the air, I felt horribly exposed and positioned. Judging from Eric's satisfied expression in the mirror, he enjoyed compelling these sensations in me. Anticipation sputtered to life in my depths.

"Spread your legs."

The order made me tremble, and I struggled to comply, stumbling in my haste. His hands on my hips caught me, supported me, and I was relieved to see approval on his face as I watched him in the mirror behind me.

It was fascinating, watching the way his eyes roamed my body. In those unguarded moments, he was far from the detached façade he usually presented. His gaze was fiery and voracious, threatening to consume every inch of flesh it touched.

I felt Eric's right hand leave my hip and disappear from my sight. My breath hitched, waiting to discover where that hand was going to scorch my skin. After what seemed an eternity, I heard the rasp of a zipper. My pulse raced as his hand moved against my rounded right cheek as he, presumably, eased himself out of his pants.

"Your wish is my command," his smile was predatory as his words echoed my earlier thoughts.

I gritted my teeth in frustration, straining to see in the mirror while still keeping my elbows on the counter, as ordered. As if sensing my urge to move, Eric's left hand slipped inside my jacket, untucked the silky chemise underneath, and slid his palm against the bare skin of my spine. The heat of his hand was exquisite, and the pressure he applied was enough to keep me still.

His right hand, still out of my covetous view, began to move; the knuckles brushing against me, twisting slightly in the upward movement. He was killing me; the desperation to see, to know for sure that he was doing _what I thought he was doing_ brought tears to my eyes.

Frantically, I looked at his face in the mirror to find his gaze locked on mine, intense and possessive.

_Please!_ I screamed in my head. _I need more._

"More what?" He ground out the question, and I realized I had said the words aloud.

The liquid heat between my legs began to run down my thigh, and I shook my head, desperately unable to form words beyond "please".

Eric leaned over my back, his left hand moving around my back to press against my abdomen, his chest pressing against my spine. I could feel his right hand, fisted, press into the crease of my ass, and I longed for friction, to feel what he was holding in that hand.

"I know what you want, Sookie," he breathed in my ear, never breaking eye contact. "More importantly, I know what you need.

His left hand ghosted up to cup the underside my right breast through my lace bra, and my nipples instantly hardened to diamonds.

"But first, you have to give yourself to me completely. To obey me. To trust that I know what's best for you." The whispered words sounded like redemption, liberation. Nothing had ever sounded so appealing, and everything inside me eased. There was nothing I wanted more than to place myself in his hands. To let him take control.

Eric leaned back, his hand moving again to my spine, as his other hand continued its stroking movement. He looked at me, at the blissful expression I could feel enveloping my face, and he nodded with approval.

"Sookie," the sound was a caress, and I couldn't stop the sigh that escaped. "Tell me the truth, now."

_How could I tell him anything else?_

"Were you teasing me earlier, in the conference room? Were you pretending that pen, the pen you teased and licked and sucked with your succulent little mouth – were you dreaming that pen was my cock?"

I bit my lower lip and nodded, to embarrassed and overwhelmed to speak.

"Say it." He would not let me shirk his command. Eric wanted it all.

"Yes," I groaned, as his knuckles brushed against me on an upstroke. He raised one eyebrow, and I knew to continue. "I pretended that pen was you."

"Me? Say it, Sookie." His voice became menacing, enforcing. "Say the word. Tell me what you wanted to wrap those soft lips around. Tell me what I'm holding in my hand, what you're dying to see. Say it."

I shuddered, my breaths escaping me in pants. "Your c-c-cock," I stuttered.

Eric's increased breathing and sparking eyes were his only outward reaction. I was elated to know that I caused that in him; that my acquiescence excited him.

"Good girl," he grinned, quite pleased. "You've been so good, that I'll give you what you want."

My sanity was slowly slipping away, and I fought to grasp it with both hands. "What…here?" I gasped. "But, anyone could walk in, at any moment."

Eric's eyes blazed and his voice turned rough. "You're mine." The vehemence shocked me, and seemed to make Eric pause. He took a deep breath and continued in a calm, controlled way. "Your body, your mouth…they are mine to control. If I wanted you to suck my cock while someone else watched, you would hold open the door and invite them in."

And then, in a devastating move, he loosened the grip of his right hand, and returned both hands to my hips. My breath caught as I felt the hot weight of his erection press against me. "Wouldn't you, Sookie?"

Dear God in Heaven, I would do as he said. I would, because it was Eric. And because no one else, ever, had made me feel what he wrought in me. He challenged me, he pushed me, and he made me adore him for it. It scared me more than anything in my entire life.

Eric's eyes softened as they roamed my face, and the grip of his hands turned to a caress. "Trust me," he whispered. There was no mistake that he was asking, not ordering. "I will protect you. Place yourself in my care, and you will never regret it."

Some clear, conscious thought permeated my lust infused brain. I wasn't just agreeing to perform oral sex on my boss in the corporate bathroom. Surrendering control to Eric meant gifting him with my trust. He was _asking_ me to trust him. It did not escape my notice that by asking, he was also giving me control – giving his trust in return. Was I worthy of the burden?

Eric read my every expression and knew my decision. But as usual, he demanded more.

"Say it."

This time I didn't stutter. "I trust you."

Looking at his reflection, I realized that, although I couldn't read him as adeptly, there was satisfaction _and relief?_ in his eyes.

Abruptly, Eric took a step back and adjusted himself, zipping up his pants. My eyes shot down to his closed fly, suddenly angry – outraged - that I missed my only chance at a glimpse of him.

He shot me his panty-dropping grin, making my knees tremble again, to my annoyance. Then he walked to the door, leaving me wanting and desperate. _Again._

"Damn it, Eric." I cursed.

His low chuckle sent a shiver down my spine. Defiantly, I straightened and stood next to the counter, glaring at him.

"You won't regret it, lover." His use of the endearment was disarming. "We have a lot to discuss. Come to my office tonight, six-thirty. "

Then slowly, deliberately, he reached up to turn the silver lock on the door and pulled it open.

The door had been locked all along.

He flashed that grin again, and walked out.


	8. Tighten Up

**A/N - If you're out there reading, thank you for staying with me. There are good things to come, I promise! (Also, I forgot to send this one past my awesome beta, DeeDeeINFJ, so any mistakes are, as usual, totally my doing.) Thank you as always for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

_I wanted love, I needed love,_  
_Most of all, most of all_  
_Someone said true love was dead_  
_And I'm bound to fall, bound to fall_  
_For you_  
_But what can I do?_

_I don't need to get steady_  
_I know just how I feel_  
_I'm telling you to get ready_  
_My dear_

_- The Black Keys "Tighten Up"_

**SPOV**

I stared at my pencil holder in a daze. The bright blue and pink swirled colors of the vibrant container only reminded me of ice blue eyes and rosy flesh. The eyes were his, of course. The rosy flesh was mine – pink from the embarrassed blush I know I wore all the way back to my desk. Hell, my cheeks still felt hot. I couldn't stop thinking about what we had said, about what I had been willing to do, about him knowing how much he aroused me.

I should be angry. After the stunt Eric pulled on me…even if the door was locked the whole time, he teased me horribly. And left me wanting. Again_._ I was getting freaking tired of that.

But, in a way, I was relieved as well. I wasn't thinking straight where he was concerned. Tara would have a conniption if she ever found out what happened in that bathroom. I was seriously risking my hard-earned career in some sort of hormonal trance. If we got caught, chances were slim that the whole "but look at how sexy he is" defense would work in this case. _Although, just a photo of him would probably convince a jury…_

_PING_

The sound jolted me from my courtroom musings and had me digging in my purse for my phone. Glancing at the screen, I saw I had a text message, but I didn't recognize the number. I opened it.

**My office, 6:30. Use the back stairwell and executive elevator. – E**

My pulse jumped. How did he know my cell number? And how the hell was I supposed to use the executive elevator? I remember Eric had used a key to go to the seventh floor.

_PING_

I almost dropped the phone. It took two tries before my stupid touch screen would obey my fumbling fingers and open the new message.

**The elevator key is on your ring next to your house key. Don't be late. – E**

I scrambled through my purse to pull out my keys and experienced a moment of panic wondering if Eric had seen my new _Twilight_ key ring. So I was Team Edward. So what? Although, after the last movie I was starting to become Team Jasper. _That boy was a bad-ass and…_

I shook my head and tried to focus. It was there on my ring: a small, round silver key. How long had it been there? It could have been there for weeks, and I probably wouldn't have noticed. How had he slipped it on? And what did it mean? If we were even keeping up a pretense of propriety, I would be using the main elevator to go to his office.

Nerves and fear hit me suddenly, and I dropped my head into my hands. What the hell was I doing? Yes, I was extraordinarily attracted to Eric. He wielded a power over me that I had never experienced, and I was desperate for more. I craved him; his voice, his face, his touch. But what about him? How invested was he? I didn't want to be just a notch on his bedpost… or whip…as the case may be. Did Eric care about me?

Images came to me; of Eric telling me to take Tylenol to prevent a hangover, of snapping at Russell for degrading me, of the way he seemed relieved when I said I would trust him…like it had mattered to him.

Maybe he did care.

"Hey there, kiddo. Are you all ready for the proposal tomorrow? Looks like it's going to be a big one."

_I hate it when he calls me "kiddo". _I raised my head and turned to respond to Bill, fake smile plastered on my face. "Um, yeah. I was just waiting for Jessica to get me those copies of the brand research."

Bill gave me a concerned face. "Jessica went home sick today. She didn't get you your copies?"

_Crap!_ "No," I sighed. "Looks like I'll have to do them tonight." I was staying late, after all. Now I'd have something to keep my mind occupied before facing _him._

He made a _tsk_ sound and shook his head. "I think Russell's under some serious pressure."

As usual, I didn't follow Bill's convoluted logic. "Sorry?"

He shrugged. "I know he's been a real jerk to you lately. He's been in such a bad mood; I think the pressure's getting to him." Bill leaned in to whisper, "Between you and me, I think there's some sort of office romance going on." He winked at me.

My heart skipped a beat.

"The sneaking around, the private meetings – I think Russell's not handling it well."

_Fuck!_ I felt all color leave my face. What was I thinking? I was a fool to think that other people wouldn't notice Eric's attention to me, or my obsession with him. Every woman in the building watched his every move. And now Bill and Russell had caught on. I was so screwed.

Bill chuckled, seemingly oblivious to my freak out. "Personally, I would never have figured Russell and Arlene for a couple."

"Arlene and Russell?" The words flew from my mouth without thought, and with much more volume than I had anticipated.

"Shh!" Bill hushed me with a frown. "I don't want either of them overhearing. If they knew that _we_ knew…well, it probably wouldn't be good for us."

I couldn't stop the perplexed look I shot him. "Bill, I don't get it. I would swear Russell is gay." _And didn't Arlene go for blue-collar guys?_

"Evidently not. I saw them in a passionate clutch with my own eyes." Bill waggled his eyebrows in an extremely annoying way. "They're probably having troubles, and that's why Russell's been so harsh."

_No, he's just an asshole._ I refrained from saying it out loud and instead nodded politely at Bill, wishing he would go away. He had obviously seen something, but I had serious doubts that Russell and Arlene were romantically involved. There was no way. And my sudden relief at realizing Eric and I had not been discovered was slowly giving way to fear that eventually we would be. There were, after all, eyes everywhere.

"Anyway, it's five o'clock, kid. Time to skedaddle. Want me to walk you to your car?"

I glanced at the clock - an hour and a half to go. "Thanks Bill, but I've got to get that copying done for tomorrow." And I really didn't want to hear any more of Bill's gossip. It cut too close to home.

"Alrighty then. Have a good night."

"You too," I turned around and stared at my pencil holder again. I'd never make it sitting at my desk, nervous as hell. I grabbed the paperwork of Jessica's desk, and headed down the hallway to the copy room. Might as well get some work done, and try to keep myself from going insane thinking about Eric and what he had planned for me in his bat cave.

* * *

**EPOV**

My eyes barely moved as I glanced at the clock on the wall, but her damn eagle eyes caught it.

"Am I holding you up, Eric? Do you have plans tonight?"

_Shit_. I didn't want Pam to know everything about my life. Actually, I was a little surprised at myself for insisting Sookie come to my office tonight – using the executive elevator, no less. Obviously, my dick was now doing my thinking.

"An appointment," I stated, knowing that Pam would easily spot a lie. She was also stubborn enough to stick to me like glue until she found out what she wanted to know.

Pam raised an eyebrow, studying me. My face was carefully blank.

"With Miss Stackhouse?"

She was way too good; a worthy opponent.

Pam smirked and patted her meticulously arranged hair. "Will I need to turn off some cameras tonight, or do you want a copy of the video?"

I rolled my eyes. "I told her to take the back hallway and executive elevator. No cameras."

Her gaze sharpened, giving away her surprise. "You _are_ finding out who trained her on those purchase orders, aren't you? You're not going to forget to do your job in the midst of getting your dick wet?"

I knew what she was really asking. Pam, my old friend, was worried for me. She wanted to make sure I wasn't losing my head over this woman, that I was still the controlled, goal-oriented man she knew.

I didn't answer her.

"Fuck, Eric! What the hell are you doing?" She rose from the chair in front of my desk and began to pace. "We have an objective here, and I won't have you fucking it up with some ditzy piece of ass."

My ire rose suddenly, but I took a moment to bat it down, mentally applauding myself for the evidence of my control. My voice was even cool as I addressed my colleague. "Call her a derogatory name again, Pam, and I'll break you."

Pam's head snapped to me in a whiplash movement. Her eyes were wide, shocked, as she stared into mine, measuring the weight of my words for a long moment.

"My apologies, Eric."

I held her gaze for another beat, before I could feel myself soften slightly at her apology. As I saw her shoulders relax, I reflected that friends, even old ones, have boundaries that should not be crossed. Pam was now aware of mine.

"I have plans with regard to Miss Stackhouse, and I will get results."

Pam nodded quickly. "I'll leave to you it, then." She gave me a small smile in apology. I smiled back, accepting, and she left my office.

I sighed, and rubbed my face with my hands. What the fuck _was_ my plan? Pam's fears about my shifting focus were not totally unfounded. I was finding myself increasing distracted by Sookie Stackhouse and the pull she had on me. It was becoming harder to maintain distance from her, and if there was anything I had learned from my heartless bastard of a father, it was that control – in business and in sex – was essential.

What was it about Sookie that was getting under my skin? She was just a woman, and I was skilled at handling women. By all indications, she was willing to do as I bid her – something that appealed to me more than ever before. Finding a willing woman wasn't difficult, but finding a woman who trusted me completely with her will and with her body was empowering and intoxicating. I craved it. I craved _her._

But what drew me to her more, what was causing her to wriggle under my skin was that she wasn't just giving me her will and her body. She was beginning to give me her heart and, even more momentous, her mind. The weight of that trust was immense, and played to one of my few insecurities. By letting her into my office tonight, by implementing my plan, by seducing Sookie, was I worthy of her? Was Marten Northman's son worthy of such a gift?

I stood from my desk, accepting the long lost niggling of fear in the pit of my belly, and walked to the back door of my office. I unlocked it and opened it a crack, inviting her in.

* * *

**SPOV**

I was crippled by indecision as I gathered my booklets and copies and carried them down the empty hallway toward my cubicle.

Should I show up in Eric's office? Should I take the risk? Even if they were obviously untrue, Bill's observations of Arlene and Russell intensified my fears of being discovered. I knew my career wouldn't survive such a blow; such was the fate of women in the workplace. Eric would probably be promoted, and I would be branded and discarded.

Was he worth it?

Was he worth risking all my endless effort, crawling out of low-country obscurity to labor through full time dead-end jobs and night classes? I worked damn hard to overcome my beginnings; long and hard, with no help and no cease of burdens. From the time I was fourteen, I labored to pay for food, for a roof over our heads, to pay medical bills and keep Children's Services away. I was tired, so tired of struggling for everyone and everything. I had always longed for someone to take care of me, to make the decisions and to let my mind and my body rest; to find peace with my "Prince Charming", as Tara liked to say.

Maybe it wasn't a prince I needed. Maybe a Viking was better equipped for the job.

Raised voices stirred me from my musings, and my steps slowed as I drew closer to my cube, and Russell's office. As always, I was grateful I wouldn't have to walk in front of his office in order to get to my desk.

"I won't stand for this shit!" A familiar female voice screeched from behind Russell's closed office door.

I looked around, seeing an empty and partially darkened floor. It was late, and most everyone had gone home already. There were some lights at the far end of the hallway, but if someone was down there, they were too far away to hear the commotion. Giving thanks for carpeted floors, I crept forward and tried to peer around the corner into the window running along the side of Russell's doorway.

I saw a flash of vibrant red hair and recoiled. _Holy shit!_ Arlene was in there with Russell! Could Bill have actually been right?

"I've had enough, Russell. You fucked me, and now I want recompensated."

I snorted, and then froze – afraid they had heard me. Leave it to Arlene to try to make a point with a fake word.

"Enough!" Russell roared.

When their voices softened to an indecipherable level, I scurried back to my cube and sat down heavily, copies still in my arms. What the hell was going on? What was Arlene talking about with the "recompensated" crap? Did she want _paid_ for screwing Russell? Was she blackmailing him?

_BEEP BEEP BEEP_

I jumped a mile high and papers flew as I scrambled to silence my cell phone alarm before Russell and Arlene realized they weren't alone in the office.

The silence was deafening. My heart pounded as I waited to see if I would be discovered. When I didn't hear the tell-tale snick of Russell's door opening, I relaxed slightly, and began to gather my copies from the floor. And then I remembered what I had set the alarm for.

Viking.

It was time for my meeting with Eric.


	9. Closer II

A/N – Referenced in this chapter is a poem by Mary Howitt "The Spider and the Fly". You've probably heard it, or lines from it, quoted somewhere before. I thought it was very fitting to this interaction. If you would like to read it, there's a link in my profile.

* * *

Stranded in this spooky town  
Stoplight is swaying and the phone lines are down  
Snow is crackling cold  
She took my heart, I think she took my soul  
With the moon I run  
Far from the carnage of the fiery sun

Driven by the strangle of vein  
Showing no mercy I'd do it again  
Open up your eyes  
You keep on crying  
Baby I'll bleed you dry  
Skies are blinking at me  
I see a storm bubbling up from the sea  
And it's coming closer

"Closer" Kings of Leon

**EPOV**

"Do it, Bobby." I could hear my voice hardening at his continued protests. "I don't want or need the money."

"_But Eric, it's a substantial amount. You could set up a generous lifetime stipend for Ms. Northman and still have the bulk of the fortune at your disposal."_

Anger flared to life in my breast at the mention of Lilith, and my hand gripped the phone painfully. "Bobby, I want you to understand something." I snarled. "Allowing my stepmother to win her silly plea for money has absolutely nothing to do with generosity. I have no idea why my father would leave me his estate; I had no use for his money while he was alive, and I have no want for it now that he's dead. As far as I am concerned, Lilith earned every penny and then some. Draw up the paperwork to sign it over to her."

Bobby sighed heavily. _"All of it?"_

"All of it." I hung up the phone.

Damn Lilith. Damn my fucking father for bringing her into our lives. I hoped fervently that he was burning in hell at this very moment; it would be more than he deserved.

I leaned back in my chair and drew a deep breath, trying to maintain control.

Control.

It was a hard lesson I learned at my father's knee; one that Lilith helped reinforce. I had felt such sympathy for her when she married my father. I watched my mother die just months earlier from the stress and anxiety heaped upon her from Marten Northman's infidelities and cruelty. Lilith was young and beautiful, and, fearing for her treatment under my father's hand, I befriended her, watched over her, and appointed myself her protector at the tender age of sixteen.

I was a fucking fool.

She drew me in, seduced me, and taught me the pleasure of dominating a woman, of control. All the while I felt I was rescuing the fair maiden and giving my father the betrayal he deserved. Our relationship continued for years, with me begging her to let me take her away from his cruelty, and with her keeping me on a string, plotting with me to engineer his downfall. But I was the one who was ultimately betrayed.

Thank God for my mother's inheritance. Her fortune was what drew my father to her, and how she had the strength to withstand him and save the bulk of it for me, I'll never know. My father hated her for his inability to control that one aspect of her life, and he hated me for being the catalyst of her remaining strength. Not that I would have failed without her bequest; my determination to succeed would have triumphed no matter what obstacles Marten Northman placed in my path. Having a shitload of money just made it easier, and gave my father one less avenue to exert his will over me.

Feeling anxious from my journey down memory lane, I stood and cleared my desk of all files. I wanted it clean and clear, in case I decided I wanted to fuck Sookie on top of it. Images warred in my mind; bent over the desk, in order to continue the delectable torture I began in the restroom? Or on the leather couch? I glanced across the room and imagined feeling the leather warming from my naked skin as I reclined on it, with Sookie on her knees between my spread legs. My hand would grip her hair tightly as I lowered her mouth to my cock.

"Eric?" I heard her voice and light knock, and turned to catch a glimpse of her through the cracked door. A sudden, unwelcome pang of conscience hit me when I heard the innocent, youthful tone of her voice. She was so obviously anxious, and she was smart to be. I was a master manipulator, and she might well be out of her league. I ruthlessly pushed aside my weak thoughts and focused on my goal.

"Sookie." I opened the door and studied her slowly, my eyes caressing her from head to toe, remembering with fondness the feel of her skirt against my fisted hand, the silkiness of her skin under my fingertips. I ached to be closer to her. "Come into my office."

"Said the spider to the fly?" Her voice shook slightly, despite her sarcastic comment.

I couldn't suppress my smirk. As always, she challenged me. Playing wounded, I countered. "You would consider me the spider?"

Even as she wrung her hands in nervousness, Sookie strode into my parlor, head held high. "You certainly aren't the fly."

"No?" _And yet, at times I feel tangled in your web._ Remembering my fantasies, I gestured toward the leather couch on the other side of the room and almost chuckled when she skirted me widely to walk to it.

She set her keys down on the coffee table, and then sat on the edge of the couch, trying to avoid sinking into the plush cushion. Her glowing skin and golden hair looked positively virginal next to the rich, dark leather. _Maybe I am the spider_, I thought, as visions of tucking her snugly into my bed and fiercely holding her fast swam in my head.

_Slowly, Eric_, I warned myself.

"Would you like a drink?" I strode to the small wine refrigerator hidden behind a cabinet and gestured toward a bottle contained inside.

"During working hours?" She was so stiff, sitting on the edge of the cushion.

I smiled at her, knowing the effect it would have. "Oh, I think we can successfully combine business and pleasure, don't you?"

As I poured the wine, she answered. "I'm not so sure. There are others who are very unsuccessful at that."

"But they aren't us, are they?" I handed her the glass of wine and sat next to her on the couch, holding my own glass. She took a nervous gulp, avoiding my eyes, and I fought my urge to smile.

"No." She shook her head. "They're not."

My eyes roamed her form as I relaxed on the couch. Our body language could not have been more different; Sookie with her back straight and her knees locked, and me with my legs stretched in front of me, my body relaxed and angled toward hers.

I allowed the silence in the room to stretch, enjoying the increasing sexual tension, breathing it in like the aroma of the wine in my glass.

Sookie took another gulp of wine, and then another until it was gone. "So now that we've got the pleasure bit out of the way," she waved the empty glass triumphantly, "we can move on to the business portion."

_Silly girl._ I didn't stop my grin as she glanced hopefully over her shoulder at me.

"Sookie," I admonished. I leaned forward to brush against her, my lips tickling her ear. "That's no way to enjoy fine wine. It should be sipped, savored. Every drop should be appreciated for its scent and feel on the tongue."

She trembled - _dear Christ_, she trembled - and it just about undid me. She understood my metaphor, and I wanted her so badly I could taste it.

"Here." I handed her my full wine glass and took her empty one, placing it on the coffee table next to her keys. "Try again." I placed my hand on hers and guided the glass to her lips. "Slowly," I directed her. "Let it slip across your lips and into your mouth. Let the taste soak into your tongue before it glides down your throat." My fingertips slid across her lips, along the side of her cheek, and down her neck to caress her collarbone, mimicking the path of the wine, of….other things. I felt the movement of her throat as she swallowed slowly, obeying my instruction.

"Good girl," I whispered, my breath against her cheek. I placed a soft kiss there, allowing myself the luxury of lingering, of feeling her body tremble against mine. "Now," I kept my voice soft and smooth. "How did it taste?"

Her eyes closed and her tongue swept out to catch the remaining flavor of the wine on her bottom lip. "Amazing," she sighed, and I had the intense desire to taste the wine myself; not from a glass, but from her lips.

Resisting the urge, _for now_, I slipped the glass from her hands. She turned to look at me as I hovered so closely to her, and held my eyes as I turned the glass, placed my lips exactly where hers had been, and took a sip. Her body flushed as she responded to the sensuality of the gesture.

"Quite," I agreed with her after I had savored the taste of the wine and the woman. As I licked my lips, I saw her unconsciously lick her own and I knew she was putty in my hands.

"More?" I asked her.

Her breathing was shallow as her anticipation grew. "Please," she whispered, eyes flashing bright.

This time I couldn't resist. This time, I took a sip of wine, letting the liquid coat my lips, and then leaned in close to her.

"Taste," I beckoned, offering her my mouth. The move was pivotal; I was giving her a taste not only of wine, but of power, of choice. She did not disappoint.

In a move that was both innocent and sensual in the extreme, she leaned into my body, parted her lips and touched them to mine.

I watched Sookie's eyes close, her face relaxed as we tasted each other slowly. I couldn't contain the surge of excitement when I felt her tongue brush against my lower lip before she pulled it between her own. Our kiss continued unhurriedly, with Sookie setting the pace, building the momentum with each touch.

It wasn't until I felt her hand slide up my thigh and her tongue slip into my mouth that I took control…that I _lost_ control.

She overwhelmed me; the feel of her body pressed against mine, her hot hand gripping my thigh, her tongue sliding against mine. I slid my right hand up the back of her neck to grab a fistful of her hair, pulling on it to hold her still as I ravaged her mouth. My other hand left its grip on her jaw to move down to her breast, gripping it firmly, rubbing my palm roughly against the nipple pebbled in its center. Her whimper excited me, spurred me on, and I grasped at her jacket, roughly pulling it off of her and flinging it over my shoulder.

When I felt her fingernails dig into my thigh, all plans of seduction disintegrated. _Screw seduction._ I wanted her. Here. Now. It was time.

I tore my mouth from hers, and she helped me pull her silky chemise over her head, throwing it in the same direction as her jacket. Her breasts were lovingly showcased in deep blood red lace, with hints of her creamy skin showing through, pushed up as though seeking my touch, my appreciation. I approved. Whole-heartedly. My eyes feasted on the beauty presented before me; tousled blonde hair, eyes lidded with passion, bee-stung lips, luscious breasts heaving in anticipation. _My Sookie._ The possessive thought shook me, made me feel something…fear? Caution? Whatever it was, I pushed it aside for the woman in front of me.

I grabbed her around the waist and jerked her against me, forgetting to be gentle in my need to claim her. I pushed Sookie down on the couch, and lowered myself over her.

"Fuck!" I couldn't stop the awed whisper as I felt our bodies touch. The pleasure was exquisite; the need to possess her devastating. As I managed to find enough control to kiss Sookie with the reverence she deserved, I felt her grasp my shirt, practically ripping the buttons in her haste to rid me of it. I leaned back to unbutton in quickly and throw it away from us. I yanked her skirt up around her waist so I could settle my hips between her legs, rubbing my erection against her core, driving her mad with want. The feel of skin on skin was almost painful in its pleasure.

I kissed her, again and again, growling when her hands tightened in my hair and surging with pride when I felt her moans. I kissed down her neck, biting and nipping, suckling her collarbones before dipping my tongue into the valley between her breasts. I rubbed my cheek against the swell of her breast, reveling in the silky softness of her skin.

"Eric."

Her whisper floated down to me, penetrating my lustful haze. Keeping my lips on her breast, I looked up her body into her eyes.

"Don't stop," Sookie's eyes and lips begged me. "Please don't stop." I knew what she meant. I had teased her enough in the past. She was committed to this path, and was desperate not to be denied again.

I had her right where I wanted her.

I brushed my lips further across the swell of her breast and nipped hard, instantly leaving a mark. She hissed, and her eyes left mine to look at the brand I left on her. She continued to watch as I kissed it softly, and raised her hips into me, begging for more. I dipped a finger into the cup of her bra, pulling it down to expose her nipple to my mouth. I sucked her deeply, swirling my tongue around and across her nipple before moving to the other breast, and sucking that one as well.

I played her like a maestro, expertly raising her desire, building her pleasure note by note. My own passion grew as a result, my moves becoming as desperate and wanton as hers. Our hips pressed toward each other, our mouths clashing, our hands grasping. I had called the storm, and now I was immersed in it, in her. I didn't want to be saved, I wanted to drown.

"Please," Sookie begged again, her eyes shut tight, her head thrown to the side. "Eric, please. I need you." Her arms held me tight, clasping me to her. I needed inside. I reached down to grab the side of her panties, and I ripped, tearing through each side until they were scraps of blood lace. I shoved her legs wider apart and thrust two fingers inside her, diving into the warmth and wetness with ease.

_God_, she was magnificent. Her chest heaved, back arched, and an amazing flush spread over her body. She was so close. I could feel her pussy gripping my fingers as her arms held me desperately, pulling me closer. I could not recall ever wanting anyone so much.

"Mine." I growled, shoving my fingers in her faster, flattening out my palm to slap it against her clit for each rough stroke.

Sookie cried out at the sensation. "Yours," she gasped. "Make me yours. I want to be yours."

"_Not his. I don't want to be his." The mewling, saccharine-sweet voice whimpered in my ear as I thrust inside her, branding me with her words, her scent, her manipulations. I felt caught in her web, tied up and suffocating in the silken tangles with Lillith and my father and no way out. "I want to be yours, Eric." The words echoed in my brain, through my lungs, clogging my breath as I shoved in and out of her, harder and harder. It was never enough. _I_ was never enough._

"Eric?"

Sookie's voice, so innocent and so different from _hers_, snapped me back from my memory, and I looked down at her, panting under me. I had stilled, freezing in the middle of making her come to take a fucked-up trip down memory lane.

"Are you okay?" Concern was evident on her sweet face. She stunned me. Her emotions, her caring, stunned me and I didn't deserve it, _didn't fucking want it_. I pulled away, backed away from her and sat up. My dick wailed as I pulled my fingers from her. Even then, I ached at the loss of her heat, and it worried me.

I was in the wrong frame of mind to do this. It was all going to hell.

"I'm fine." I tried to smile, attempting to save the situation. She saw through me, reaching up a hand to touch my face. I stood quickly, avoiding her touch.

Control. I needed control.

"Eric?"

It was there in her voice; the curiosity, the concern. I couldn't stand it.

I picked up the wine glass and walked toward my desk, keeping my back to her. I took a measured drink, steadying myself. _I wish it was scotch._

There was no sound from the couch behind me. No noise as I felt her eyes boring into my back. I was frantically thinking of a way out of the mess I had created, cringing at the silence that stretched between us.

Finally, I heard her sit up and the rustle of her clothing as she put herself back together. I drank more wine, trying to get back into the proper mindset.

"What are you doing to me, Eric?" Her voice rang out, clear and strong, making me cringe inside. Making me proud of her. "What do you want from me?"

The urge to spill everything, to trust her, bubbled inside me, scaring me shitless. I was suffocating, fucking cornered_ again,_ and I lashed out like the animal I was.

"Lover, I think you know exactly what I want from you," I turned to face her, eyebrow raised and a sexy smirk on my face. I looked her up and down, lingering on her wrinkled skirt and gaping chemise; they were ghosts of the pleasure I had killed.

Sookie clutched her jacket to her chest, the hurt in her eyes stabbing at me. Without a word, she turned and walked out my office door.

My shoulders slumped with relief as she left, the door snicking closed behind her. I was sure my silly little fly would not come back again. Rage, fear, and disgust percolated inside me.

When I threw the wineglass at the closed door, it shattered into tiny slivers, sparkling in the plush carpet below.

* * *

**Please review, and keep reading. More soon - I promise.**


	10. Tangled

A/N - Thank you. The fact that you are reading this, and are interested despite my absence means the world to me. I struggle with myself to make this story all that I know it should be, and your support is indescribable. I love you guys!

The following is short, but necesssary. More soon...

* * *

There is nothing left to say to you  
That you want to hear  
That you want to know  
I think I should go  
The things I've done are way too shameful

You're just innocent  
A helpless victim of a spider's web  
And I'm an insect  
Going after anything that I can get

So you better turn your head and run

Don't look back

"Tangled" Maroon 5

* * *

**SPOV**

_Just get out. _

_Just get out._

_Just get out the fuck out._

The mantra barely held me together as I rushed into the hallway, out of the executive area and to the elevator. My finger jabbed at the button relentlessly, and it was forever before the elevator arrived. The doors had barely parted before I was barreling inside, knocking into someone in my haste.

_Fuck!_ "Pardon me," I muttered head down, trying to keep whoever it was from seeing me fall apart.

I don't even know if the woman responded as I caught a flash of blonde hair and long legs walking down the hallway toward Eric's office.

_Probably his next appointment._

The thought stabbed deep, and I fought to keep the hurt inside, whispering my mantra out loud now and frantically wiping the tears from my eyes in case the elevator stopped anywhere else.

It reached the ground floor without stopping, and I stumbled out into the lobby. Eyes averted, I waved quickly at the night security guy and barreled past the desk, out the front doors and into the soothing cool air of evening. My feet automatically turned to the right, toward home, and I took a minute for some deep, cleansing breaths.

"Goddamn motherfucking ASSHOLE!" The words exploded out of me, and I was shocked enough at my outburst to look around quickly and make sure I wasn't noticed. Well, at least not by anyone I knew. Angry outbursts by hysterical women weren't totally uncommon in the city; just another day, really.

And apparently I was just another day, another woman, another _mindfuck_ to Eric Northman.

What the hell had I been thinking?

As my feet started walking the six blocks toward home, I mentally berated myself. Blaming Eric felt motherfucking GREAT, but I knew it wasn't the solution. Obviously, he was a sadistic, controlling dickhead who got off on playing with women, keeping them on a string. That was totally his fault. But, was it his fault I fell for it? Begged for it? Wanted it? I might have been over my head, but I certainly wasn't coerced.

If he hadn't stopped, I would totally have let him fuck me and probably tried to convince myself it had been "making love".

I didn't even know what that meant.

I had never slept with a man who had told me he loved me. I had never slept with anyone I would have been able to say that to in return. My whole life had consisted of hurried fumblings, unsatisfying penetration, and embarrassed goodbyes. I dreamt of being taken away from all the work and responsibility in my life, but I had yet to meet the man worthy or willing to accept the position. I had placed Eric on that pedestal, weaving my happily ever after daydreams around him.

The result? It was his fault for being an asshole, my fault for falling for it. Now that blame had been determined, what was next?

Eric was the strongest, most commanding man I had ever met. He was mouthwateringly sexy, and I know I did not imagine the attraction between us, so why the fucked up stop and start? Why was Eric holding back? I couldn't help but remember how he played my body like a maestro; using his mouth and fingers to elicit sensations I had never felt or dreamed were possible. I had been absorbed in what he was doing to me. And then he said, "Mine".

_Mine._

In that amazingly sexy, alpha-male, dominating way of his. And I wanted nothing more, nothing more ever in my life than for it to be so.

And so I begged for it, for him. And it all went to shit. Right in the middle of my most gratifying sexual experience ever, he froze. It was obvious from the pained look on his face that something had jolted him from the moment. And then he had looked so…_lost. _I'd seen more of my share of pain and suffering, but the look on his face was so lonely. It made me want to hold him, to shelter him. The memory of it still did.

The click of my heels on the sidewalk slowed as I realized something had scared him and made him run.

_Why did he run?_ I stopped in my tracks. _What could _Eric Northman_ possibly be afraid of?_

The rest of the walk home was a blur of memories and situations, running every encounter through my head, trying to piece the Northman puzzle together. I was missing something, of that I was sure - something involving purchase orders and Russell, but also more.

More in the careful way Eric held himself tightly controlled. More in the way he watched me, stalked me, and slipped into my life as if he owned it. More in the way he had started to get close to me, started to claim me and then lost control and ran.

By the time I had reached my apartment door, I had made several resolutions. I was going to consider calling Alcide McHotterson from the bar because, obviously, I needed to get laid. I was going to find out what was going on with Eric and Russell. I was going to find out why Eric had been scared. I was going to be realistic when it came to men. I was not going to be Eric's victim.

And I was going to hide an extra apartment key somewhere, because I had left mine in Eric's office.

Fuck.

* * *

**EPOV**

"I never knew you were such a charmer, Eric."

The sarcasm was so thick I could have choked on it.

"Shut it, Pam." I muttered, but without heat. I was feeling sorry for myself. I could blame my past; the memories of my wicked stepmother and psychotic father caused me to suffer post-traumatic stress disorder, or some Freudian sexual oral obsession, and I was acting out in the face of an innocent passion. Or maybe my subconscious was recognizing the same dangerous and manipulative tendencies in Sookie and warning me away. Or maybe it was all bullshit and I was just scared - scared and pathetic for letting my past rule my present.

In any case, I had fucked up.

"You fucked up." Pam was nothing if not blunt.

"Oh, what do you know?" I snarled, and ran my hands through my hair. Needing to move, to do something, I grabbed a trashcan, and then walked to where the shattered glass had fallen.

"I know that I just saw an employee run out of her superior's office after work hours with her shirt half -buttoned, her hair mussed, and her lips swollen. I know that I just saw a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen pass me on the way to the elevator."

"She won't sue." I picked up one tiny shard after another, piece by piece.

"How the fuck do you know, Eric? Do you have some sort of evidence on her? Did you get the information we need?"

When I didn't answer, I could almost feel the cold anger rolling off of Pam.

"Goddammit, Eric."

The last shard was larger, and it cut through the pad of my first finger. I watched the blood well into a fat ball before sliding down into my palm in a long, red streak.

"You have to fix this."

I shook my head, still watching the path of my blood. "I can't, Pam. I fucked it up."

"You can. You have to."

I squeezed my fist closed, relishing the sting. "No." I stood, and finally looked at her. Her eyes widened at whatever resolution she saw on my face. "Sookie's not the one you're looking for."

"Okay, Obi-Wan." Again with the sarcasm. "Then who is? We need to find out, and your girl is the only one who can help us with that."

"Then fucking ask her yourself." I was done. If Sookie was guilty, then I wanted nothing to do with her. And if she was innocent, like I suspected she was…well then, she should want nothing to do with me.

Pam whipped out her cell phone and punched in a number. "Charles," she barked, "give me a 20 on Sookie Stackhouse."

I rolled my eyes at the lingo. Pam had been in the Secret Service – you would have thought she would be less TV cop and more discrete professional.

"She left? How long ago?" Pam waited while she received the answer. "In a cab?"

I tried not to listen. I tried not to care, but I couldn't stop myself.

"Walking?" Pam raised an eyebrow at me while talking to Charles.

"She lives close by," I mumbled, recalling her little apartment that managed to have more warmth in its tiny dimensions than my penthouse could ever have.

Pam snapped the phone closed and stared at me. "Do you need a band-aid?"

I looked at the blood seeping out of my hand, and walked to the bar for a washcloth. "No."

"Are you done being a pussy and feeling sorry for yourself?"

I felt my jaw clench. She was pissing me off.

"Look, I know that you have some sort of damaged past."

I looked at her sharply. She was going too far.

"It's not hard to figure out, okay? Especially by someone who has their own skeletons in the closet." She shook her head ruefully. "And with training in observing people. But, for what it's worth – I've never seen you take an interest in a woman beyond what you can get from them, physically or professionally."

"And?"

Pam was tentative; it drew my attention more. "And…you've been different with Sookie. Following her around, showing up at her meetings – you've taken an interest in her beyond what I've seen from you before. At the risk of being told to fuck off, I think you're intrigued by her."

"What is your point, Pam?"

"My point is, don't fuck this up, Eric. There is a lot at stake here."

As if I was unaware of this; yet, I did seem to lose sight of it whenever Miss Stackhouse was within my reach.

"I'll get your information, Pam. Even if it's not through Sookie, I'll still figure out how to nail Russell's balls to the wall."

Pam smiled softly. "I have no doubt of that, Eric. It's not the professional part I'm worried about."

I was at a loss. Pam worried about me? It made me uncomfortable, as if our relationship had crossed a line, became an obligation I wasn't sure I could fulfill.

Her eyes met mine, and seemed to sharpen in understanding. She saw too much. "Back to business - you fucked up, and you're going to fix it or it's both our asses." She straightened and patted her perfect hair. "Besides," she continued in a reasonable tone, "this job pays _way_ too well for me to lose it because of your emo bullshit."

I couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped. I felt strangely relieved –back on familiar ground.

"Do it tonight, Northman. Now."

I thought of Sookie's face right before she left my office. "That might be…difficult."

"No excuses. You know where she lives. Go there."

"Pam," I ran a hand through my hair, uneasy. "She won't let me in."

"She won't have to." Pam smiled, and then tossed something at me.

I caught them easily: Sookie's keys on that ridiculous vampire keychain.

I grinned. "Pamela, I love you."

"I know." She smirked back, and left the office.

* * *

A/N - More soon. In the meantime, I've posted a quick 2-shot that's been rattling around in my brain. It's called Blood Slave. I hope you'll check it out.


	11. Guilty Filthy Soul

**A/N – To my "Anxious" reader, never fear. This story will be finished - sometimes it just takes a while. :) **

**So, the last chapter left us with Sookie storming out of Eric's office, kicking herself and wondering what was up with Eric. Eric was confronted by Pam during a brood worthy of Edward Cullen, in which she told him to man up so he could get what he needed from Sookie – both professionally and personally. When Sookie got home, she realized she left her keys in Eric's office.**

* * *

_cause you gotta look her in the eye_  
_and you gotta love your way of life_  
_cause you gotta guilty, filthy soul_  
_don't ya know its out of your control_

_"Guilty, Filthy Soul" AWOLNATION_

**SPOV**

I popped my head up at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. I was sitting in my doorway, playing with my phone, trying to figure out who else I could call. The apartment super, Barry, wasn't home but I had left a message on his cell explaining I was locked out. My next door neighbor was out as well; not that Terry had a spare key, but the guy was a war veteran – maybe he had some mad MacGyver skills and could break in. I had just reached the sad realization that I had not really made any close friends since moving here when I heard the footsteps.

"Thank god you got my message! I thought I would have to sleep in the hallway," I called to Barry, watching for his dark hair to crest the landing.

But the hair wasn't dark, it was blonde. And it wasn't Barry.

A surge of anger, enflamed by embarrassment, surged through me.

"So stubborn," Eric shook his beautiful head at me. "You know you had only to call me, and I would have made sure you slept comfortably."

Damn him if that didn't raise lust through my body, despite his smug expression. I definitely needed to call Alcide, if only to take care of my excessive libido.

"There's nothing I want from you." I was bold and strong, proud of the way my voice did not waver. He looked down at me, sitting at his feet. His eyes roamed my legs, stretched out in front of me, up my chest causing an obvious physical reaction (_damn it_), to my flushed cheeks and fiery eyes.

"Oh, I have something you want," Eric smiled smugly, sliding his hand into his pocket. I felt my eyes widen in shock. Was he really going to do what I thought with that hand?

My gaze was so locked on his crotch that I almost didn't notice him pulling his hand out of his pocket and dangling keys in front of me.

My keys.

I gasped and struggled awkwardly in my skirt to rise off the floor. "Give me those!"

He held his long arm higher in the air, making it impossible for me to reach. "I thought there was nothing you wanted from me?"

The jerk was teasing me! Fool that he was, he obviously didn't recognize he had already stretched my teasing limit for the night.

I placed my hands on my hips and raised an eyebrow. "Nothing that isn't mine already."

That struck a chord with him, echoing of our interlude in his office. His half-smirk faded and his eyes grew dark and deep. "It's _all_ yours."

_What?_ I searched his face, desperate to understand the meaning behind his words. Our eyes locked, and the only sound heard for several long minutes was the pounding of the blood roaring through my veins. Eric blinked and turned his head, shutting me out.

"Here." He held out the keys. I took them carefully, making sure not to touch his skin. I didn't think I could handle those hands on my flesh again, not so soon after the memory of them there earlier, and the feelings they had wrought.

"Thank you," the manners ingrained in me by my grandmother came through, and I turned from him to open the door. "Good night."

"Sookie."

The gravity in his voice stopped me as I stepped inside. For a moment, I was afraid to turn, afraid of falling under his spell again if he asked… no, _ordered_…me to allow him entrance.

I felt the heat of his body move in behind me. "I need to talk to you."

"No," my response was immediate. "You said everything I needed to hear tonight, Eric. It's over. Go after someone else." The idea of that killed me, but a dalliance with Eric would have been a much more painful and prolonged death.

I heard his intake of breath, and he placed a heavy hand carefully on my shoulder. "I don't…"

He sighed heavily and I felt the heat of it caress my skin. "Sookie, I'm not accustomed to having to apologize. But I…recognize that my treatment of you this evening was reprehensible." Each word was stilted and weighted, and it was evident that the process was difficult for him.

I scoffed inwardly. _Tough._

Still, I was my grandmother's granddaughter. "Thank you for recognizing that, Eric, even if that wasn't actually an apology." I slipped away from the warmth of his hand on my shoulder, turned and started to close the door. "Good night."

"I need you."

The words were forced and powerful, and they made me freeze like prey in the sights of a predator, my eyes locked with his.

"I need your help," he clarified. "With a work issue."

I didn't think I could be disappointed by him again tonight, but apparently it was possible. That fact made me angry and annoyed.

"Then talk to me at work," I snarled. I started to close the door, but the fucker put his foot in front of it like a damn sweeper salesman.

"I can't talk about it at work because I don't want to be overheard. It's about Russell."

I paused. I totally admit it. But, he knew just how to arouse my curiosity, _among other things_, and I just couldn't let it go - not when he might provide another piece to the giant puzzle in my mind.

"What about Russell?"

I could feel Eric's gaze on me, and I looked up at him to see an earnest expression on his face. I didn't believe it…much.

"We have reason to believe he's embezzling from the company, and that is all I am willing to say in this hallway." He leaned forward. "Now, _please_ let me in."

A small, petulant part of me wanted to say "no" in the snarkiest tone I could produce and then shove the door in his face. However, I remembered I was a professional woman and refused to sink to such levels. Instead I scowled at him and stepped back to let him in.

He stared at me for a moment, and then stepped past me into my apartment.

I closed my eyes and took a short moment to berate myself. Not surprisingly, the voice in my head sounded just like Tara, yelling at me for being stupid. I silenced it. I might have been stupid about a lot of things in my life, but I'm no masochist. Eric was going to tell me what was going on, and then he was leaving. That's it.

I opened my eyes to see him settling into my favorite cushy chair…the only thing in my living room previously untouched by him – including me. It just pissed me off.

I stalked over and stood in front of the couch, refusing to sit. Sitting would just give him the impression that he was welcome…and he wasn't.

"Spill it. What's up with Russell?"

He looked up at me grimly. "You might want to sit down for this."

"No thank you." I said primly.

His shrug clearly said _suit yourself_. "We've suspected Russell has been stealing for a while."

Wow. I was surprised, but in some weird way, it made sense. Russell was an ass. "If you knew about this, why hasn't he been fired? Or arrested?"

"We were waiting to acquire enough evidence to do both. The last thing we need is for him to slip away without us being able to stop him, or to get the money back. We didn't want him to know we were on to him."

I thought back about Russell's nervousness, his extreme dislike of Eric, and all around weird behavior. "I think he knows."

Eric's grin was predatory and dangerous. "He does now. The timing of my return to the home office was planned. We want to put the pressure on him, let him make a mistake. He's quite afraid of me."

"Yeah," I nodded, chuckling. "Yeah, he really is. So, if you have all this evidence against Russell, what do you need from me?"

Eric leaned forward in the chair, his expression earnest. "We don't think he was working alone. I need your help in figuring out his accomplice."

This part didn't make sense. "Me? Look, while I'd love to be your Mata Hari or whatever, there is just no way I would be able to help you with Russell. You've seen it – the man hates me! He would never let me get close to him, and he certainly wouldn't tell me his secrets. I'm surprised he even hired me!"

"Oh, he was very insistent that you be hired." Eric's gaze became intense, and I wanted to squirm under his scrutiny. "We were prepared to hire someone within the department, but he demanded that you be offered the job."

_What the hell?_ "But, he despises me! Why would want me?"

Eric's voice was cold. "We've been wondering the same thing."

It hit me, all at once, and my knees gave out. I sank onto the sofa, my mouth hanging open. "You think I'm his accomplice."

His silence was telling, and my heart sank. In that moment, I realized Tara's warning had been right on. I was starting to weave daydreams around Eric Northman, starting to feel something for him, and he thought I was a thief. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, trying to ease the ache forming there.

"I…" my whisper was loud in the weighted silence of the room. "I would _never_…" Eric had said he knew me – that he knew me even better than I knew myself – but if he thought this about me, then he didn't know jack shit. Outrage took over and I snapped my head up to look at him. "I've had things stolen from me in my life, Eric…from people I trusted. In a million years, I would _never_ do that to someone else. I have always worked hard and earned my way. The idea that you would think that of me, that you would think I could…"

"Stop." He held up a hand and my words halted, much to my annoyance. Could I ever _not_ obey this man? "I don't think you stole the money. And I don't think you're in league with Russell."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I amount of relief I felt from his words was disconcerting. "Then why do you think I can help you?"

"Because Russell wants us to believe it was you."

I gasped. "He's framing me?"

"Quite systematically, yes. And successfully enough that you were suspected for a while."

I felt violated somehow. People in the company actually thought I was a criminal and watched my actions. I was confident in my grandmother's lessons of morality, and I knew that I lived an honest life, but knowing that I was had been scrutinized felt awful. "You said I was suspected. Am I not suspected now?"

Eric shook his head. "No."

"Why not? What made them change their minds?"

Eric studied me for a moment. "The purchasing procedures."

In a flash, I recalled all of the trouble I had over those damn procedures since my employment at Sophie Ann's. My confusion over the convoluted methods, Russell's insistence that I just didn't understand anything, Eric's introduction of new procedures and my enthusiasm over how simplified they were, when everyone else complained they were more complicated. "That's how he set me up. He did it through _my_ purchase requests."

"Partially, yes."

I saw red. _What a prick._ I mean, I knew Russell was an asshole of epic proportions, but this defied even my low opinion of him. He was just like every other thief I had known – my brother, my uncle. He was a liar and an evil little man. And he deserved to go down.

I growled. "What can I do? What can I do to clear my name and make him pay?"

* * *

**EPOV**

Her little growl shot straight to my groin, and I had to shift in the chair from the hardness growing between my legs. Sookie was magnificent in her anger. I knew she was a spitfire, but she had always been so compliant for me, and I was man enough to admit I was enjoying her passionate anger. Whoever had wronged her in the past had probably suffered a horribly justified fate at her hands, and the thought of that turned me on. At the same time, I wanted to rip the head off whoever had hurt her.

The desire in me was welcomed, but the protectiveness was not. I had been burned by my protective instincts in the past, and it was enough for me to be wary.

I had studied Sookie carefully throughout my espionage reveal – feeding her information bit by bit to assess her reactions. My instincts still said she was innocent of Russell's plot, but I had been deceived before. Self-doubt was not a feeling I enjoyed.

Reminding myself of Pam's objective, I asked her the next important question. "Who trained you on those purchasing procedures, Sookie?"

Her eyes widened beautifully, and her lips parted. Fuck it all, I had to move in my chair again.

"Arlene," she whispered. "Arlene trained me. I complained to Russell, even offered suggestions on how to improve things, but he brushed me off. It was Arlene."

Arlene Fowler? I couldn't wrap my brain around it; it wasn't what I expected. Arlene was an annoying gnat, someone that appeared to try to get ahead by hiking up her hemline and pulling down her neckline. She was a mediocre employee at best. Pam would need to know about this, and the woman would need to be watched.

"Oh my god!" Sookie exclaimed. "I saw them! Tonight, before I came to…" she halted, blushing.

"Before you came to my office?" I was glad to see her blush, knowing that she remembered some of the pleasure that happened there, and not only my fucked up memory trip. "What did you see?"

"Arlene was in Russell's office and they were arguing. She said something about how she let him fuck her, and that she wanted compensated for it." Sookie chuckled. "I thought she meant that he let him have sex with her."

"Russell having sex with Arlene?" The guy was blatantly homosexual.

"I know!" Sookie gestured animatedly. "It made no sense! But this does – she must be helping him."

"Hmm," I hummed, noncommittally. I still wasn't convinced, but I would let Pam explore the idea of Arlene as an accomplice.

"Why you?"

I raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I thought you were some hotshot mergers and acquisitions guy. Why are you involved in something like this? Isn't security responsible for tracking down thieves?"

I smiled at her confidently. Despite everything that had happened tonight, I was still obviously in her thoughts. This was a good step. "I'm known for getting what I want – no matter what the goal."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. The movement made her shirt gape open, and my gaze wandered down.

"Sophie Ann is an old friend of mine. She asked for my help specifically."

"So the rumors about you two are true?" She seemed surprised after she spoke, as if the words escaped without her approval.

She wanted to know about my previous lovers – badly enough to ask point blank. I realized fully in that moment that, although I had fucked up my chance with Sookie in my office, the possibility of another opportunity was not out of the question. She just didn't realize it yet.

"Are you asking because you want to know my sexual history, Sookie? Or because you like to spread gossip?"

Her back stiffened adorably. "Neither. I…I don't even know why I said that."

"Sookie," my voice was low, sensual, and it caught her attention, "if you want to ask me about my lovers, just ask. I am more than happy to satisfy your needs."

She turned to me, suddenly ready to spit fire. "Now, that's not entirely true, is it, Eric?"

I sat up, moving to the edge of my chair, drawing closer to her as her ire rose. "What do you mean?"

"I recall asking for something in your office, and you didn't satisfy me at all. 'Trust me' you said. 'Place yourself in my care and you'll never regret it.'" She effortlessly threw my words back at me, her kitten scratches diving deeper than I would have dreamed. "I regret it, Eric."

"Don't," I shook my head, not even knowing for sure what I was asking her to do, just that I couldn't stand to hear more. I had enough of my own regret – I couldn't survive hers as well.

"It seems to me that you might be threatened by a woman who asks for what she wants. Strong women scare you because you've been hurt. Is that it, Eric?"

I stood, scoffing. She had no idea. "Sookie, you are so upside down, you are leaving footprints on the ceiling."

She rose and put her hands on her hips. "What the hell does that mean? Are you saying you aren't threatened by a strong woman? That I don't scare you?"

She knew just how to entice me, to engage me, and draw me closer to her, like magnetic energy. I stepped to her, looming above her. My sight caught her gaping cleavage, and I saw the tiny mark my mouth had left on her breast. It reminded me that she was mine. She had given herself to me, and even though I had pushed her away, she wouldn't escape.

"Strong women are not at all a turn off, Sookie," I looked at her lazily, branding her body with my eyes as they roamed her frame. I moved closer. "They are most definitely a turn on."

Her anger turned to apprehension and she tried to step back. She quickly realized I had her pinned against the couch; she could either face me or sit down, and she seemed to realize that getting anywhere close to horizontal wasn't in her best interest at the moment. Instead, she put her hand up. I moved closer until it rested against my chest, warming the cold heart underneath.

"One minute you draw me in and the next you push me away. I don't understand you."

I smiled at her. "You don't have to."

She stared at me a moment, processing the way I looked at her, what I had told her, how I had acted. She had amazing intellect, and I would have given anything to know what was going on her in mind at that moment. Afraid of strong women? Ha! I revered them! It was the ones who simpered and whined that were to be watched, as they were like snakes that waited, watching, making you vulnerable so that they had a chance to strike. Strong, powerful women didn't have to hide.

I could tell when Sookie had made her decision about me; her posture stiffened and her expression became resolute. I slipped her a sly smile, and then stepped back, moving out of her way. I was satisfied with my progress so far, especially after my fuck up earlier. I could be patient and wait for her to be ready for me. Tonight was not the night.

She moved quickly out of my reach. Her long strides toward the door made her skirt hug the curve of her ass, reminding me that her underwear was a torn string on my office floor. The idea of such a delectable souvenir awaiting me made the thought of leaving more bearable.

"See you at work, Eric." She opened her apartment door, and gestured with one hand. It was my cue to leave.

I couldn't help but goad her a little farther. "Close the door, Sookie. I haven't said my goodbyes."

"Enough," she shook her head, chastising me like a little boy. "Look, I'll help you at work with Russell, but there will be no…_directing_ me. Not again. Do you understand, Eric?"

I stared at her, silent and unwilling to acknowledge.

Her eyes grew angry, and her little hands moved to rest saucily on her hips. "I mean it, Eric."

I was waiting for her to stomp her foot. I could feel the smirk on my face. "I'm your boss, it's my job to …"

"NO!" A beautiful blush began to spread over her cheeks, down her neck and across her chest, blending with my brand on her breast. I was mesmerized by her reaction, physical and emotional. She had my unwavering attention.

"I'm not talking about work. I'm talking about…other times. Do you understand, Eric? You can't be commanding like that. It's not…it's not allowed. You can't do it."

Her bravery amazed and humbled me, slipping my mask of arrogance away for a moment. "I don't know that I can be any other way." I struggled to speak, the vulnerability strangling the words in my throat. "It's who I am." _It's who I have to be._ Everything in me silently implored her to understand, to recognize my weakness without abuse or exploitation.

Her eyes devoured mine until I finally lowered my gaze, feeling strangely exposed before her.

Her silence stretched, making me feel as if I were standing on the head of a pin, balancing precariously to avoid plummeting.

"I need to know you respect me," she finally sighed.

"I do." My answer was automatic, given without thought.

"You don't." Her tone was stern. "You're a misogynist. There might, and I stress _might,_ be some women you respect, but certainly not all - and those most definitely not easily. Why is that, Eric? Why don't you respect women? Who hurt you?"

I wouldn't argue with her, but it wasn't respect I lacked for her. It was trust. And that I gave to no one.

I raised my eyes enough to meet hers. "I owe you," the admission was difficult, especially when it went against my instincts to make myself vulnerable in that fashion. "But I don't owe you that. You don't get to lay me bare; analyze me with your psychology minor. I'm not a project for you to evaluate."

"And I'm not a whore for you to fuck."

God, I loved her spunk. And she thought I didn't respect her. How could I not? "No. You're no whore." I left the last part of her sentence where it deserved…unacknowledged.

I leaned into her body, quickly - before she had a chance to move away, and kissed her soft cheek. "Well, as long as we've got that straight, see you on Monday."

And with a wink, I left her apartment.


End file.
